Healing
by YesIWriteForFun
Summary: Draco and Hermione both needed an escape in order to finally begin healing from the War, finding it impossible to move on while surrounded by reminders of the War. Neither of them expected to run into the other, or the roles they would play in each other's lives from that point forward. A story of healing, growth and rediscovering one-self. Longer description inside. DRAMIONE!
1. Just a Break

**Hi everyone! This is my first HP story and I'm very excited to share it with you all. First things first, I want to put it out there that this is a Dramione story, so if that isn't your cup of tea, then I'm just warning you now that this story isn't for you. This being said, there won't be any Dramione right out of the gate, of course, but just be patient, because I promise it is coming! I'll have a little more information about my plans for this story at the end of the chapter, but for now, just read on and enjoy!**

**Description****: It has been just over a year since Voldemort was defeated, and everyone is still trying to heal and get back to their old selves. Hermione has come to realize that it is nearly impossible for her to heal while she is surrounded by constant reminders of the War, so she decides to get away for a bit. Draco has his own horrors to deal with post-war, and he needs to get out of the manor and away from his father. They both embark on a trip meant to help them heal and rediscover themselves so they can be happy once more. What they didn't expect was to run into each other in a foreign country. Follow along as Draco and Hermione heal their wounds left from the War, find happiness again, and discover that the key to it all may have been the last thing they expected.**

**Disclaimer****: I do not own Harry Potter. Anything familiar belongs to JKR.**

**XXX**

**Ch. 1: Just a Break**

"I just need to get away," I sniffed, wiping hastily at my cheeks. "Not for long, just – just a break. I need a break from all _this_," I spread my arms wide gesturing to my current surroundings, as though they encapsulated my entire life. "Just a break and then everything will be better." Even I could tell my words had a very unconvincing air, but I raised as steady of a gaze as I could to meet the eyes of those around me.

Harry was the first to speak. "'Mione," he began slowly. I hated that tone – it was his, "I don't want to upset Hermione, so I'm going to approach her like a wounded animal on the side of the road" tone. "I understand that you're upset," he continued, "but do you really think this is the best way to handle things? I mean, going off alone and leaving all your friends behind –"

Ron cut him off before he could finish. "Yeah, we're all upset, Hermione, but you don't see us _abandoning_ each other," he snapped, as though this was what Harry's point had been.

I narrowed my eyes at Ron through the fresh tears pooling in them. "Ronald, you know good and well I am not abandoning you. It's not as though I am going away forever, somewhere you can't contact me. It's just one summer, and I'll only be in France, perfectly accessible by owl or phone."

Ron crossed his arms and slumped down in his chair, clearly pouting that he didn't really have a counterargument.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "I think what Ron is getting at is, we can help you heal, Hermione, but we can only do that if you are here. We can only be here for each other if we are _here_. Letters are great for staying in touch, but not for comforting and encouragement. You know I will support you in whatever you do, 'Mione, but I just want to make sure you really truly think that spending the summer in France is the best way for you to heal."

I nodded, the lump in my throat aching more with every word out of my best friend's mouth. "I appreciate that," I said gently, "but this is not some spur-of-the-moment decision; I've been thinking about this for a while, and this is what I want to do – what I _need_ to do. Everywhere here is just a reminder of the War. There is so much grief everywhere, it's consuming. I went back to Hogwarts, and I thought that would help, being in the place that was once my favorite in the world, but every brick, every tile, everything just reminded me of the battle and what we had lost. All of my happy memories of the place were gone, replaced by death and heartache." I paused, wiping at my cheeks again. "So, then I thought, 'It will be better when I get home; when I get home, I can finally heal.' But then I got home, and my parents wouldn't look at me the same. They're hurt and betrayed that I shoved them away when the War began, because, in their minds, no matter the danger, they're the parents, and it's their job to protect me. God, and the way they look at me, look at my scars and my sad excuses of smiles, it's like they don't even recognize me. And I can't look at them the same either, because all I can think about is protecting them, even though the danger's gone." I knew I was rambling, but now that the floodgates had been opened, there was no stopping them. "So then I go out in public, and suddenly I'm some bloody celebrity and people look at me, and I see admiration, and gratitude, and loathing and even fear, and I'm not just Hermione anymore I'm _Hermione Granger!_ and I don't even know what that means." I squeezed my eyes shut, controlling my breathing and my emotions. Another beat passed before I felt I was able to speak again. "Everywhere I go, I can't escape it. How am I supposed to heal, to move on, when every waking moment of my life is just a reminder of the past? How am I supposed to get back to normal when nothing in my life feels the same?"

Everyone was silent for several minutes, my rhetorical questions hanging heavily in the air around us. Ron stared quite pointedly at his feet, arms still crossed defiantly over his chest, and I knew that he still wanted to be right, but he'd run out of arguments. Harry's eyes were closed, one hand absentmindedly rubbing his temple. My words struck something in him, clearly, though good or bad I couldn't tell.

My eyes drifted to the one person who had yet to speak. She was the only one looking at me, but I couldn't read her eyes. "Ginny?" My voice was almost a whisper. "You haven't given your opinion yet."

Still looking at me, Ginny slowly rose from her seat on the chair across from me in the Weasley's living room. She made her way toward me, finally easing herself onto the couch cushion beside me. She took my hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I think that, right now, we are all broken. I have lost my brother, friends, and friends who were practically family; I watched the only other place I called home fill with death and despair; I nearly lost so many people whom I love." I didn't miss that her eyes drifted toward Harry as she said this. "And, selfishly, I want to hold every single person who is dear to me as close as possible so that I can keep them safe and so that they can help piece me back together. I would love to have you here, with us, healing with us." I saw tears spring to her eyes, but there was a strength there too, unbending. "But you have lost people you care about, in more ways than one; you watched the only other place you called home fill with death and despair; you nearly lost so many people whom you love. Yes, we are all broken, and yes, we all need to heal, but who am I to ask you to not do what you need to do to heal just to help me heal, to ask you to put my happiness before your own? I love you, Hermione, and I just want you to find happiness again. Whatever you need to do to accomplish that, I support you completely."

Choking back a sob, I flung my arms around the redhead I considered a sister. Her arms squeezed my abdomen near the point of pain, but I didn't care. "Thank you, Ginny," I cried. "I love you too."

Pulling back, she gave me a watery smile. "I supposed I'll just have to make do with these idiots until you return."

I allowed a small laugh to escape me. "Well, please try to keep the idiots out of trouble while I'm away."

"That's a pretty tall order, I think I'll need payment. Perhaps in the form of something from a Parisian boutique?"

My smile grew. "I think I can manage that." I turned to the two boys that I held so near and dear to my heart. "Well?" I asked. "Will you two let me go peacefully or will Ginny and I have to restrain you?"

Ron finally looked up, uncrossing his arms. His lips twitched in an attempt at a smile. "You know you always win our arguments, 'Mione; I support you."

With a smile and a sniff, I reached out and squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Ron." I turned to the raven-haired boy. "Harry?"

Meeting my eyes, I felt as though he was searching for something, though I don't know what. Finally, he rolled his eyes and smiled. "Alright, 'Mione, I'm with you. But you better not come back with some French bloke; I hear their egos are enough to give even Malfoy a run for his money."

I laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. "I don't think you have to worry about that."

**XXX**

Ginny had wanted to come help me pack, because apparently my normal wardrobe choices simply were not up to the "French standard", as she so kindly put it. However, her "help" turned out to consist of her lounging on my bed and making funny faces at my clothes every now and again. I didn't mind though; regardless of my need to escape the reminders of the War, her company was always appreciated.

I was holding up two sundresses, trying to determine which to pack when Ginny spoke for the first time in a while. "I'm really going to miss you, Hermione." Her voice was quiet, and when I turned toward her, her eyes were downcast, lips pulled downward at the corners.

Placing the two dresses on my trunk, I walked over to sit beside her. "I will miss you too, Ginny," I comforted as I placed my arm around her shoulders. She leaned into my touch. "But you know, France really isn't _that_ far. Maybe once I'm settled you can come visit for a bit? I'll need someone to show me how to properly take advantage of the Parisian shops, after all."

As I expected, the prospect of a shopping trip in Paris instantly brightened the young redhead. "That would be amazing!" she exclaimed. "I'll have to clear it with Mum, of course, but if I'm going to be with you the whole time, I'm sure she will let me. Oh, Hermione, you _have_ to write me as soon as you are settled so we can plan it. It will be great!"

I smiled warmly. Personally, the idea of such an extravagant shopping trip didn't sound appealing in the least, but seeing how much it brightened Ginny's mood already, I would gladly suffer through. "It's a plan then." Giving her shoulders another squeeze, I rose to resume my packing.

Another few minutes passed before Ginny spoke again. "I really hope this trip helps you find happiness again. You deserve to be happy, especially after everything you've been through."

I folded a bathing suit carefully into my trunk. "We've all been through a lot," I acknowledged.

"I know," Ginny admitted, "but not like you, what with your parents, and let's be honest, you always had to be the strong one for Harry and Ron." I didn't respond, unsure what to say. "I think that's why it never would have worked between you two," she continued.

I glanced up at that. "Between Ron and I?"

She nodded. "Ron is strong in his own way, but when he's around you, I think he thinks it is easier to just let you take control, and so he does, and then you always have to be his strength. It's fine in a friendship, but not in a relationship. You would have gotten worn out, probably resented him."

I frowned. "I would hate to believe I would have ever come to resent Ron, but, yes, I think it quickly became clear to us both that we functioned better as friends."

"I love Ron, but he isn't what you need," she agreed. "You don't need to be someone's crutch; you need someone who is your equal. Someone who pushes you, challenges you, moves you."

I gave Ginny a knowing grin. "Is that what Harry is to you?"

Her cheeks were nearly the color of her hair, but a brilliant grin stretched across her face at the thought of him. "I suppose he is." She turned pensive for a moment before giving me a mischievous smirk. "Who knows, maybe you'll find your equal while you're in Paris?"

I scoffed. "Like I told Harry, I really don't see that happening."

She merely shrugged. "Fate works in mysterious ways, Hermione."

**XXX**

I was leaving tomorrow, so I agreed to spend the day at the Burrow in order to say my goodbyes. Mrs. Weasley made a big lunch with a fruit crisp for dessert – my favorite. She had tears in her eyes as she served me a heaping spoonful. "There you go, dear," she sniffed, trying to hide her emotions. She gave me a quick peck on the top of my head. "Now, you better be safe in France, Hermione. The Death Eaters may have been rounded up, but that doesn't mean there aren't dangerous people out there."

I looked up at the woman who had been such a motherly figure in my life. The woman who, just barely a year ago, had been brutally deprived the chance to say goodbye to one of her sons. Suddenly, she was not the only one with tears in her eyes. "I promise I will be more than careful, Mrs. Weasley."

She flashed me a weak smile and squeezed my hand. "And don't be afraid to write."

I squeezed her hand in return. "I won't."

My goodbyes with Mr. Weasley mostly consisted of him asking how the "muggle flying contraptions" worked. I had chosen to fly in place of registering for a portkey, choosing to stay in touch with my muggle side to begin this trip. I explained to him as best as I could how airplanes worked, and at the end of our interaction he gave me a quick, but warm embrace.

As they usually were lately, my interaction with George was brief. He had lost most of his spark after Fred's death, and it had yet to return to anything even resembling the way he used to be. Sure, he still ran the joke shop, and every now and again he would crack a joke or smile, but he was clearly not the same. I often wondered if he would ever be, or even ever could be the same. He embraced me quickly, telling me to enjoy myself. His smile didn't reach his eyes, and it broke my heart. "You know, George, while I'm there I would be happy to scout any possible locations for an international branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. If you would like, that is."

I saw something flash in his eyes at the suggestion – a flicker of his old ambition perhaps. "You know what, Hermione, I may just take you up on that."

I smiled, glad I could do even something small to help the broken man before me. "It would be my pleasure."

I was nearly ready to go back home to spend my last evening with my parents, and I had yet to say goodbye to Ron and Harry. Figuring I would save Harry for last, I found Ron sitting outside in the shade from the afternoon sun. Wordlessly, I eased myself down in the grass beside him. We sat silently for several minutes, our years of friendship making us more than comfortable to simply be with each other.

Eventually though, Ron broke the silence. "Do you think you could try to bring me back a French girl? A veela would be nice, but I mean –" he broke off abruptly as I smacked his arm.

"Ronald!" I huffed, but I was smiling.

Ron glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, his lips pulling up at the corners as well. "I'm only teasing, 'Mione. I mean, unless of course you just so happen to meet a nice French girl who just so happens to be perfect for me."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll be sure to keep my eyes peeled."

Another few minutes of silence passed. "I really do just want you to be happy, Hermione; we all do. And as much as I'm gonna miss you, well, if this is what you have to do to be happy, then this is what you have to do."

I reached out to lace my fingers with his. "I can't be happy again until I can heal and move on, and I really do believe this is what I need to heal and move on. Just a break from the reminders of the War and what we went through." I saw something flash in his eyes, and I quickly clarified. "A break from the pain and grief, not from you guys. You know how much I will miss you."

He gave a small smile at that, but then quickly downcast his eyes again. "I'm sorry we aren't enough to help you heal."

Since the War, I kept believing that my heart simply couldn't break any more, but time and time again – like now – I was proven wrong. "Oh, Ron, is that what you think? That isn't it at all. You, Harry, your family, you all give me so much happiness, and I know that if I were to stay here you would help me heal – eventually. It is just so difficult when I am constantly surrounded by reminders and things that keep me stuck in the past. Believe me, if there was a way to bring you all with me to an environment that is free from the past, I would. But that isn't possible, so this is what I have to do."

Ron nodded. "I understand. But I'm still going to miss you."

I flung my arms around his neck, and tears stung my eyes as he squeezed me close to him. "This isn't goodbye, Ron," I whispered. "This is just a little break."

Harry, as I had expected, was my final goodbye, and my hardest. I had spent so many years worrying over Harry and protecting him, I almost felt like a mother abandoning her child. But he had the Weasley's, I knew, and truly, he didn't need me.

When Harry gave his goodbye speech at the door, it appeared my protective feelings were reciprocated. "Make friends, but don't be too trusting of strangers. Never go out without your wand, even if you are in muggle areas. Stick to lodging that has wizarding protections around it, it should give you an added layer of protection. And whatever you do, don't forget -"

"Harry!" I interrupted. "Thank you for your concern, but I think your auror training is getting the best of you. I will be fine. I'm a grown adult, and I have survived a war after all. I think France is quite manageable for me."

Harry blushed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "I was only going to say, don't forget to write."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I will write. And do you remember how to use the mobile phones I got you and Ron? Those are much quicker. You'll probably have to help Ron, because he still has a hard time with muggle technology. Oh, and be sure to let Ginny borrow yours every now and again. She'll be so mad if -"

"Hermione!" Now it was Harry's turn to interrupt me. "I think I got it. I have survived a war, after all," he mocked.

I laughed softly. "Sorry, I think I'm starting to get a bit nervous."

"You're Hermione Granger, there's nothing you can't handle, and you have nothing to be nervous about."

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. "I hope you're right."

Squeezing my shoulders, he said, "I _know_ I'm right."

Finally, knowing it was about time I got home, I pulled him into a tight embrace. "Please watch over each other for me," I whispered, knowing he would understand that I was referring to him and Ron.

"Hermione, you have been taking care of us for eight years now, saving our skin and watching our backs. We've got it from here. I think it's about time you finally just take care of Hermione."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Thank you."

Harry smiled. "Now go off on your adventure and have fun. And don't come home until you finally feel like your old self again."

"But what if I can never feel like my old self again?" I wondered.

"Simple – you build a new and better self."

**XXX**

I spent the night with my parents, letting them lecture me on safety and fuss over me like I was a child again. We shared happy memories from when I was little, before I even found out about the wizarding world and all that came with it. For the first time in a long time, things felt almost normal between us. But then, after the childhood memories had dried up, they began asking me questions about the War and what I did while they were under their memory charms. I evaded their questions and quickly excused myself to go to sleep.

Morning came slowly, as I was too excited and nervous to sleep soundly, but eventually it did come. I double and triple checked that I had everything I needed, and my father and I loaded up the car before he drove me to the airport.

The plan was that I would fly to France, and then take a taxi to the wizarding hotel I had booked in Paris. Beyond that, I had no plans. It was an unusual feeling for me, going into a situation without a plan laid out perfect and neat, but I truly hadn't wanted anything from this trip other than a chance to get away from it all. I had vague ideas of things I wanted to do, places I wanted to visit. I wanted to do a lot of the classic, touristy things, but after that I supposed I would just have to see where life led me.

I shared my final two emotional goodbyes with my parents at the airport and then proceeded through the boarding process. Halfway through, I felt anxiety clutching my heart. What if I was making an awful mistake? How could I leave my friends behind?

Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that this is what needed to be done. I hadn't been able to look past the pain and grief in the air and find true happiness since before the War. I needed to escape it all, remove myself from that environment in order to begin the healing process.

I just needed a break.

**XXX**

**There you have it, chapter one! This story is going to be told from alternating perspectives, so next chapter is going to be Draco. This chapter and next are really a lot of set up for the story, but after that it will get more exciting. Right now I am planning on updating once a week, but I will have to see how this chapter goes over and how much writing I can fit into my schedule. If I can, I may even post the second chapter soon, since they are both a bit of set-up for the story. Either way, add me to your alerts or keep an eye out if you are interested in reading further!**

**As always, reviews are a lovely gesture. Leave me your thoughts, feelings, ideas, but please keep the criticism constructive :) It's been a few years since I posted anything on here or wrote a full-blown story, so please be patient with me! **

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. I Need to Get Away

**Hello again! I had a surprise day off, so I was able to edit chapter two for you guys. Like I said last chapter, this one is still laying the foundation for the story, but don't worry, next chapter we start to actually get into the story. I know these first two chapters are a bit sad/self-reflective, but the rest of the story won't be like this, because - if I'm being honest - I don't particularly enjoy writing that type of stuff. It's going to be a healing/self-discovery story, but from here on out it won't be so self-reflective and a little more light hearted. **

**Anyway, thank you for the kind response to last chapter, and I hope everyone enjoys this chapter just as much!**

**Disclaimer****: All rights go to JK Rowling, I am writing for pure entertainment purposes, and make no profit.**

**XXX**

**Ch. 2: I Need to Get Away**

"I need to get away," I groaned, flopping myself onto my bed.

Blaise, who was leaning near the window and inspecting his nails, quirked an eyebrow. "Dear old Mum and Dad getting to be too much?"

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. "That's an understatement. I don't think 'Dear old Dad' has put the bottle down since he was stripped of his magic. He's perpetually drunk, and you know what kind of drunk he is." Blaise moved to sit in the chair near my bed, his expression growing more serious. He knew quite well exactly what kind of drunk my father was. "And Mum," I continued with a sigh, "well, I think she is just trying to pretend everything is normal to keep everything from falling apart even more. Either that or she's delusional and truly doesn't believe the War happened."

"I'm sure she knows that the War happened," Blaise said quietly. "Something like that's pretty tough to forget."

I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Running my hands over my tired face, I replied, "I know, trust me. When we first came home, she hired a cleaning crew to scrub the entire property, as if she could just wash away the taint left here from the bloody Dark Lord. But other than that, she hasn't said anything about the War. Father just locks himself away in his study, and she pretends not to notice he is missing from meals and whatnot. She acts like everything is fine when it is clearly not fine, and so I act like everything's fine, when it is very much not fine, and Father just drinks it all away."

"Okay, so your parents are a mess." Blaise shrugged. "No big deal, so are most people's. Don't let that stop you from moving on and putting this shit behind you. Have you thought about applying for jobs yet?"

I shook my head. "Not yet, I think I need to fly under the radar for a while longer before people can forgive and forget enough to even consider hiring me. Besides, it isn't just my parent's holding me back, it's everything. I mean, _Voldemort_ lived here. Just being here reminds me too much of the War and everything that happened. Every room seems to have its own list of awful memories." I couldn't go into the dining room without seeing Nagini slithering across the table to make a meal of a former Hogwarts professor, or the parlor without seeing the Dark Lord sitting there, Bellatrix by his side, or, Merlin, the drawing room…

"I've told you before, mate, you're always more than welcome to stay with me. Mum's barely there anyway, so we'd have the place pretty much to ourselves."

"I appreciate it, I do, but this is more than just the memories that haunt me here at the Manor. All of Wizarding England knows who I am, who I supported, who my father is, what I did. You don't know what it's like; you may have been a Slytherin, but you weren't a death eater. You don't know what it's like having people look at you the way they look at me whenever I go out. I see disgust, and fear. But nothing is as bad as when I run into an old acquaintance of my father's, and they ask me if I'll be continuing the 'family business'."

"Oh, hell," Blaise muttered.

"Tell me about it," I scoffed. "It's not just that I have too many poor memories in England; England has too many poor memories of me. I just wish I could take a break, get away for a while."

"Why can't you?"

I raised an eyebrow at Blaise. "My family is an absolute mess, I'm despised everywhere I go, I can't leave my mother alone; should I keep going?"

Blaise stood, waving his hand as though to brush away all of my reasons. "Those are weak excuses and you know it. Yeah, your family is a mess – like I said, so are most people's. You're despised everywhere you go in England, but people outside the country don't give a damn about you. And your mother will be fine without you. In fact, I would bet she'd be better off without you here for a while."

I blanched. "Are you suggesting I'm upsetting my mother?"

Blaise shrugged. "Not on purpose, but yes, I believe you are. Think about it, she almost lost you several times during the War. Every time she looks at you, she is probably reminded of that. You know how your mother is: overprotective of you and wanting to shelter you from anything bad. I'm sure that's the reason she is pretending everything is okay – because she thinks that's what's best for you. Maybe if you're gone for a bit, she can finally let herself be realistic and then she can really work on getting back to normal."

I huffed, refusing to acknowledge that he made good points. "So, what exactly are you proposing I do, Blaise? Pack up and leave the country?"

Blaise grinned, and not just any grin – I recognized it as his I-have-a-plan grin. "I am proposing you do exactly that. You said it yourself that you need to lay-low for a while; what better way to do that than leaving the country? It doesn't have to be forever, just the summer. Then, come fall, when everyone has had a bit more time you can buckle down and start figuring out what you want to do with your life."

I sank back onto my bed, contemplating the idea. It did sound tempting, getting away from all the reminders of the last few years, even if only for a summer. "Where would I even go?" I mumbled, more to myself.

Blaise was grinning again. "That's the best part. My family has a summer home in France, but my mother recently ended a nasty fling with a French beau, so she is boycotting the entire country. Anyway, the point is that the Zabini home in France is free all summer."

Now I was starting to understand his motivations, because, like any good Slytherin, something must have been in it for him. "And you would be joining me on this trip of course."

"Of course."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know."

"Oh, come on, Draco! Think about it! French women, the beach, a summer away from this mess." I frowned, and Blaise turned serious once more. "I know that you haven't been yourself lately – probably in years if we're being honest. Ever since this all started, it's like you've had a dark cloud constantly hanging over you. You don't laugh or smile anymore, and, at risk of sounding like I actually care about you -" I scoffed "- I'm worried. I know you feel guilty about things that happened, and I know that you see yourself as one of the bad guys -" I was about to protest, but he held up a hand to stop me "- but you deserve to heal too. You've been through awful, terrible things, Draco, and you need to heal too. Look, you don't have to do anything you don't want to, I won't make you, but I really think some time away will be good for you."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, letting his words hang heavily in the air. Blaise was rarely serious, and he even less often showed blatant care or concern. For him to give a big, serious speech like that, it must have been something he had been thinking about for a while. Admittedly, whether or not I liked it, everything he had said had been accurate. I saw it in the black circles under my eyes, in my hollow cheeks, my even paler skin; I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and I had been for years. I couldn't even remember the last time I felt whole, let alone happy.

With a heaving sigh that was perhaps a bit overdramatic, I relented. "Fine, I guess we're going to France."

**XXX**

My mother took the news of my coming trip surprisingly well - or at least she seemed to. With the way she had been bottling everything away lately, I suppose I wouldn't know if she were upset or not. Regardless, when I told her that Blaise and I planned to spend the summer in France, she showed me nothing but support.

"That sounds like a lovely idea, Draco," she smiled. "Just like when you two were children, spending the whole summer causing mischief."

I returned her smile tentatively. "Well, there won't be much mischief this summer; part of the reason for the trip is so I can fly under the radar and stay out of the news for a bit."

Her smile wavered for only a moment, as it did every time anything relating to our involvement in the War was brought up, but then she was quickly back to her strong self, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Of course, but I do hope you are still able to enjoy yourself."

"Don't worry, I'm sure Blaise will keep me entertained," I said dryly. Blaise was infamous for his need to constantly be doing things and having fun. It was a rare day that he could simply sit still and be. The thought of him spending the day with a nice book – a near perfect day, in my opinion – was laughable.

My mother gave a soft twinkle of a laugh. "Oh, I have no doubt about that. May I ask what brought on the desire to take this trip so suddenly?"

I couldn't very well tell my mother that I needed a trip to get away from her, our home and our country in general. Luckily, my years of practice had a lie rolling easily off of my tongue without hesitation. "Well, I told Blaise that I was planning to start searching for a job in the near future, and he insisted on one more summer of fun before I entered the working world. Besides, I think it will be a great opportunity to make some of my own connections." The last part was actually true. I had been considering working with something relating to international relations and going to France was a perfect opportunity for me to begin networking. Plus, being able to say that I already had connections would be a benefit when I began applying for jobs, and, considering my history, I would need all of the help I could get.

"Oh, when did my young boy become so responsible, already planning for the future?" Mother wrapped me in a tight embrace, which I returned easily.

She was far from a short woman, but my recent growth left her head reaching just below my chin, which I rested on the crown of her head as I responded. "I suppose I had a good role model." There was no need for me to clarify about which parent I spoke, we both knew.

After a few more moments she pulled away and placed a soft hand on my cheek. "I hope you find everything you need in this trip, my Draco," she whispered. "It would be nice to see you whole again."

Embarrassingly, I felt a lump forming in my throat. I swallowed past it, annoyed. "Thank you, Mum."

**XXX**

I waited until the day I was leaving to tell my father where I would be spending the summer. I chose late morning, thinking it would be the best time. Typically, he was just waking up, so he was hungover, but also the most sober he ever was these days. This conversation would be bad no matter what, but at least it would be more tolerable if he were somewhat sober. Hopefully he would be more subdued and less likely to throw something.

Stealing myself, I rapped quickly on his study door before letting myself in. I avoided my father and his study as much as possible, so it had been weeks since I had been in the room. It smelled just as terrible as I had remembered, and, in the dim light peeking through the curtains, I could see just enough to tell that the garbage piles around the room had only grown in size.

My father was sitting with his elbows propped on his desk, head resting in his hands. His hair, normally the same shade as mine, was even paler than normal, hanging greasy and lifeless around his face. His robes were stained, torn, and looked like they hadn't been changed in a few days. He looked absolutely retched.

He hadn't looked up upon my entrance, but I could tell from his irregular breathing that he was awake. I cleared my throat. "Father?"

Slowly, he lowered his hands away and raised his empty eyes to regard me coolly. He desperately needed a shave, and he had bags under his eyes that made mine look like nothing. "Draco," he croaked.

I took a hesitant step toward him. No sense beating around the bush or dragging this out any longer than I needed to. "I wanted to inform you that I would be away for the duration of the summer, beginning today."

He narrowed his eyes at me, raising his chin ever so slightly. I knew that look, and it wasn't one I associated with particularly happy memories of my father. "Away…?" he drawled.

I swallowed, wiping my suddenly damp hands on the back of my trousers. "Yes, I will be spending the summer with Blaise at the Zabini's home in France."

"France? You are going to France?" His tone was growing dangerous, and I should have seen that as the warning it was, like the bright colors of a poisonous animal; a blaring sign, reading "danger ahead" that I ignored.

"Yes, I thought it may be a good opportunity to make connections and –"

My father cut me off with a slam of his fist against the table as he quickly rose from the chair. His rapid movements caused the chair to upend, clattering loudly to the ground. "YOU DARE ABANDON YOUR MOTHER AND I LIKE THIS?" he bellowed. Only my years of experience kept me from flinching. "We are in our greatest time of need," he continued through clenched teeth, "and you choose to _leave_ us?! You spoiled, insulant child! After everything we have done for you, the things I sacrificed to give you such opportunities. You could have been second in command to the Dark Lord! But you have never appreciated such things. You take advantage of your parents, again and again, like the selfish brat you are."

I forced myself to remain calm. My father had never been the kindest man, but the drinking and his time in Azkaban made it much worse. At times he could be nearly delusional, and he often lost his ability to rationalize, consumed by his emotions, which mostly consisted of anger. As calmly as I could, I said, "Father, I do not mean to abandon you; I am going to France to attempt to make myself more attractive to – " but he cut me off again, this time with an empty liquor bottle thrown at me, missing my head by inches and shattering against the wall behind me.

"ENOUGH!" he screamed. "I have heard enough out of you, boy. Get out of my sight before I lose my temper."

Knowing there was no way to salvage this battle, I hastily made my exit, shutting the door on the sound of more bottles breaking. So much for catching him at a good time.

I didn't worry much about my father or his opinion on my travels. He'd likely forget about this exchange by tomorrow, and it was possible he may not even realize I was gone at all. I told myself the things he had said weren't true – just the ramblings of a broken, bitter man, that they didn't bother me – but it was difficult to ignore the dull ache in my chest as I retrieved my trunk and prepared to say my goodbyes to my mother.

Saying goodbye to my mother went much more smoothly than things had with my father. Tears glossed over her eyes, but she was smiling, and it seemed genuine. "Please be safe," she whispered as she pulled me close.

I squeezed my arms tightly around her in response. "I will, Mum, I promise."

She held me for another minute before letting me go. She was still wearing her watery smile as she said, "I want so much for you, Draco. So much more than your father and I had. You deserve a full life, with friends – real friends – and a beautiful, kind wife who will give you beautiful, happy babies. You deserve a happy home, a meaningful career. I just want you to have a full life, Draco, and I truly believe this summer will be where that life starts for you." The tears that had been clinging to her eyes now streamed delicately down her cheeks. "Promise me you will pursue that life with everything in you, for me."

I had no idea how to even begin to do such a thing, but seeing how much it meant to my mother, I said, "I promise."

Goodbyes completed, I apparated to Blaise's house. His home was connected directly by floo to his home in France, so that was the easiest way to get there. He was waiting for me in his parlor, his trunk in hand. I could practically feel the excitement coming off of him in waves as he stood there, grinning ear to ear. "Took you long enough," he teased, the grin never even slipping.

I rolled my eyes. "Apologies, things went a little rough with my father."

Even this only caused the slightest of drops in his smile. "Well, no bother with that now. From here on out, this is a worry-free trip." Grabbing a fistful of floo powder from his mantle, he backed into the large fireplace. "So, what do you say, Drake? Ready to embark on the adventure of your lifetime?" Before I could respond, he went up in a burst of green flames and was gone.

I sighed, following in his footsteps. _Well_, I thought, letting the powder fall from my hand, _here goes nothing_.

**XXX**

**There ya have it, chapter two! I hope my portrayal of Draco isn't too OOC, and anything that seems to be a little off I try to justify with context/backstory. Let me know what you think though, because I love to hear any constructive feedback! Also, a few little personal disclaimers here. First, I'm American, so my writing is going to be American. I try to make the dialogue a little more British (mum, mate, etc.) for authenticity, but go easy on me here! Second, I have never been to France and my extent of French knowledge comes from my five years of taking French in high school, which was a couple years ago now. I try to skim the surface enough and compensate with research when needed so that it shouldn't affect the story, but I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies or anything that doesn't seem authentic.**

**Once again, reviews are greatly appreciated, and I would love to hear any thoughts you guys have! Next chapter should be up next week.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. A Fun Evening

**Hey everyone! Welcome back! This is where the story really starts in my opinion. We pick up with Hermione, and she's been in France for about 2-3 weeks at this point. I just once again want to say that I am American and have never been to France, so I'm doing my best to not let that compromise the story, but sorry in advance for any inaccuracies. If anyone sees something that seems off, please let me know (politely) so I can fix it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; anything familiar belongs to JK Rowling**

**XXX**

**Ch. 3: A Fun Evening**

I spent my first week in Paris doing every tourist-y thing I could think of. I saw the sights, I ate the food, I drank the champagne, I visited the museums, and, overall, it was nice. After a few days, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders, and I found my thoughts drifting away from the War and the past more often.

Soon, however, that weight that had been lifted was replaced by a dull ache in my chest that I recognized as loneliness. Part of it was of course that I missed my loved ones, but mostly I missed human interaction in general. I was in a foreign country, alone, and, while I could get by with my French, I was hardly fluent. I had been spending large parts of the days alone, and even when I was surrounded by people it wasn't as if we were interacting. Finally, after a week of this feeling, I decided to do something about it. That morning, I went down to the rustic little café directly across from the hotel I was staying at in the Wizarding part of Paris. When I first arrived, I was the only patron in the small area, but I didn't let that deter me. Determined not to leave until I made some sort of connection, I brought a book, purchased a large cup of tea, and settled in to wait for an opportunity to strike.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait long. I was barely through the first chapter of my novel when I heard a delicate throat being cleared in front of me. Quickly, I raised my eyes from the pages to regard the young woman who stood in front of me. She had rich, auburn hair that was pulled back into an expertly messy knot on top of her head. Her features were delicate, with high cheekbones, a petite nose and upturned, sky-blue eyes. She was giving me an unsure smile, which I quickly returned.

"Excuse me," the woman began in her thick accent. "Are you Hermione Granger?" The way my name rolled so gracefully off of her tongue made it sound more appealing than it did even when I said it; I couldn't help but contrast it in my mind to Viktor's terrible pronunciation.

Despite the charm the woman emitted, I was still skeptical of this stranger approaching me almost as though she knew me. "Yes," I said hesitantly. "Do I know you?"

The woman shook her head repeatedly. "Oh no, no. I am Charlotte."

I tried to hide my frown. Part of the reason I had left Britain was to get away from this sudden "celebrity" status I had acquired, but apparently it had followed me. "Pleasure," I forced out.

Charlotte must have been able to sense my insincerity, because she quickly began apologizing. "I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you, truly." She appeared very nervous suddenly, wringing her hands together. "It is just that I saw you sitting here, and I had to come over to you. I simply had to thank you."

I had been growing irritated during her little speech, having heard something similar too many times before back home, but the last part brought me up short. "Thank me?" I asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. Thank you, for everything you have done for our people."

It was then that I noticed that, unlike most of the wizards and witches around us, she was not in robes, but a fashionable, yet clearly muggle, outfit. "You're muggleborn," I realized.

She nodded again, smiling slightly. "Yes, I am. Like you, my parents are both non-magic. You see, that is why I needed to thank you. Many people believed that Voldemort was only Britain's problem and that we should not involve ourselves, but I knew better. If Britain was unable to stop him, he would have moved on to other countries next, killing anyone like us and our parents. But I never had to worry about that, because you helped to defeat him. So, thank you, Hermione Granger, for saving my life."

I was moved. I had never before thought about the implications Voldemort could have had on other countries, and I assumed that other countries never thought about him in turn. To hear Charlotte say these things, say that I saved her life, it was touching. I had no idea how to even begin to respond to that, so I simply said, "Would you like to sit?"

And she did.

Not only did I form my first personal connection in France that day, but I also formed a routine. From then on, Charlotte and I met for breakfast at that café nearly every day, sometimes spending the entire day together, sometimes just eating our breakfasts and going our separate ways. Slowly, I felt that aching loneliness ease its grip from around my heart.

Over the course of the next week, I learned that Charlotte's parents were muggles who owned a simple cottage in the French countryside. When I asked her how she spoke English so well, she informed me that her father was from America. He had come here for work straight out of university, met her mother and never left.

Her mother was a very mystic woman, and Charlotte had told me with a fond eyeroll that her mother claimed to have always known Charlotte was magical. "Of course, she couldn't have really known; we were all quite surprised when I was invited to attend Beauxbatons," Charlotte explained. I smiled nostalgically, remembering my families pleasant surprise that came the day Professor McGonagall knocked on our door.

Charlotte's father had been much more skeptical, reluctant to let her go off to some strange school that claimed to have magical powers. Eventually though, he did let her go, and so, Charlotte went to Beauxbatons and completed her schooling. "I finished just this year," she told me. "I chose to spend the summer in the city so that I could begin looking for work or apprenticeships."

"That sounds like a great idea. What would you like to do?" I asked her.

A light blush spread across her cheeks. "Oh, it is embarrassing."

I laughed lightly. "I am sure it isn't," I encouraged.

"Well, I would love to be a baker." She then crinkled her nose. "Oh, here I am with the Brightest Witch of Her Age, and I am telling her my dream is to bake pastries! How pathetic that must seem."

"No, no, not at all!" I placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "No dream is pathetic, especially not if you are actually chasing it. Besides," I sighed, "it isn't like the 'Brightest Witch of Her Age' is up to anything worthwhile these days."

Now it was Charlotte's turn to let out a light laugh at my expense. "You did help win a war; I believe that earns you a bit of a break."

I scrunched my face into a grimace. "Yes, I suppose that is a good point. Still, I've always had a difficult time sitting still."

"Hermione, you have done much more before the age of nineteen than a lot of wizards or witches do in their entire lives. This is your chance to relax, have fun!"

I scoffed. "That isn't really my style."

Charlotte sat up straighter, looking determined. "Well it is mine, and perhaps it should be yours, at least a little. You told me you came on this trip to move on from the War, no?"

I bit my lip, unsure if I liked where she was going with this. "Yes, I did…"

"Then tell me how you expect to be able to move on if you are unable to have fun?"

I hated when people used logic against me. "That would be difficult, I guess."

Charlotte brightened. "Exactly! Then it is settled."

My eyebrows knit together. Had I missed something? "What is settled?"

The grin Charlotte flashed me then reminded me eerily of Ginny. "I am taking you out with me this evening to have fun."

**XXX**

As it turned out, Charlotte's "fun" evening consisted of dragging me to a nightclub.

"Not just any nightclub, Hermione," she reminded me for the tenth time since we left the café this morning. "This is Chez Etoile! It is supposed to be the next hottest thing in Wizarding France, and tonight is the opening night. It is supposed to be very exclusive, but I got our names on the list thanks to an old friend from school."

I crinkled my nose. "I don't know, Char. Clubs just aren't really my thing."

Charlotte was wearing that grin again, the one that reminded me of Ginny before she got into trouble. "Hermione, that is because you have never been to a club with me. Come on, we will find some new outfits, and we can go back to my flat before-hand to get ready. I know just the spell to help keep your hair on good behavior."

Before I could protest, Charlotte was grabbing me by the hand, pulling me towards the boutiques. I stifled a groan. I _hated_ shopping, but seeing the grin on Charlotte's face, I could hardly say no. Not that I thought that would stop her, anyway.

We were in and out of shops for the next hour. Charlotte had found a dress in the first shop. It was a slip style dress that was made of a black, satiny material that glimmered in the light. It flowed delicately over her, perfect for her tall, almost lanky frame. Dressing me was much more of a problem. Half of the clothes Charlotte chose I refused to even try on. When she handed me a see-through, lace, corset top, I merely leveled a gaze at her, refusing to even acknowledge the top with a comment. She held her hands up in surrender, and her suggestions were at least a little tamer after that. On the other hand, anything I liked and wanted to try on was immediately vetoed by Charlotte as boring or, my favorite, "It just doesn't have that certain,_ je ne sais quoi._"

I rolled my eyes when she told me that. "That is the most stereotypical French thing I have ever heard."

Three shops later, we had finally agreed on an outfit for me to at least try on. I was staring at my reflection, testing the different angles, when Charlotte called, "Hermione, can you _please_ let me see?!"

I regarded myself carefully in the mirror. The top had spaghetti straps and was made of a pale, olive green silk. It dipped a little low in the front, with the extra material pooling just below the little bit of cleavage that peaked out. I had paired it with a black skirt that reached to the middle of my thighs and was tight, but not so tight I couldn't move. It was definitely revealing – more revealing than anything I had ever worn before – yet I wasn't exactly uncomfortable. Out of my comfort zone, sure, but not so uncomfortable that I couldn't go out in this. And I had to admit, I looked pretty good. Stealing myself, I pulled back the curtain so that Charlotte could appraise my choice of outfit.

As soon as she saw me, her mouth and eyes popped open. She didn't say anything for a few moments, and I began fidgeting growing nervous under her gaze. After what felt like forever, she finally seemed to recover. "You need to buy that. Now."

"Really?" I asked, tugging the skirt down.

She rushed over to stop me. "Yes! You look incredible! Green is definitely your color."

I laughed. "I always thought I was more of a red person."

She shook her head. "Well from now on, you are buying more green."

I rang up my purchases, buying a pair of low heels to go with it. I was still doubtful about the outfit – it really was so unlike anything I had warn before – but Charlotte continued to reassure me it was the right purchase.

With our outfits decided, Charlotte brought me back to her flat to get ready. It was a cute one-bedroom on the outskirts of the city. As we grew closer, I realized that it was only a few blocks away from my hotel. "How funny, I'm living not very far from here," I voiced to Charlotte.

"What a coincidence!" She smiled as she unlocked the door. "Well, feel free to stop by whenever! My door is always open for you."

I returned her bright smile. "Thank you, and same to you, of course."

Flashing a glance in my direction, she said, "I will have to take you up on that."

It was still fairly early, so we decided to grab something to eat and relax before we began getting ready. When it got to be about two hours before we were supposed to leave, we decided it was time to begin. Charlotte sat me on the floor in front of her bed and went to work on my hair. I didn't have a mirror, so I had no idea what she was doing. From what I could tell, she was separating my hair into smaller sections, and repeatedly performing what I believed to be a smoothing spell. After several minutes of this, she declared that she was finished and allowed me to look in the mirror.

I stood hesitantly, approaching the mirror with caution; I always grew nervous when other people worked with my hair. When I finally grew the courage to raise my gaze, I let out a startled gasp. "Oh, Charlotte," I breathed. My hair fell over my shoulders and back in soft, smooth curls. It was frizz-free, and the controlled curls had added a bit of extra length. It even appeared shinier. "How on earth did you do that?" I wondered, gently fingering a curl, almost to make sure they were real.

Charlotte laughed as she got up to stand behind me in the mirror. "It was just a simple smoothing spell."

I turned on her. "But I've tried that spell a million times before and it never worked like this."

"Were you breaking your hair into sections to perform it?"

I shook my head. "No, I just did it over my whole head."

She smiled knowingly. "There is your problem. That is too much hair for the spell to work with. It's a strong spell but not _that_ strong."

I turned to look in the mirror again. "I'll have to remember that," I murmured. "Thank you."

She squeezed my shoulders. "My pleasure. Now, let's work on your makeup!"

Over an hour later we were both ready to go. I had told Charlotte that I wasn't the biggest fan of wearing makeup, so she had applied just the barest amount, just enough to accent my features. She called it a "natural look". Charlotte was able to get herself ready in much less time than it took for me. She simply pulled her long hair into a sleek updo and applied very minimal makeup, seeing as her strong features didn't require a lot. Soon after that we were dressed and ready to go.

"Thank you for helping me get ready," I said as we prepared to apparate.

Charlotte flicked her wrist, as if waving my words away. "Oh, do not thank me; it was my pleasure. I never had a sister to do this stuff with."

"Me neither," I admitted, but as soon as I said it, I felt an ache in my chest and thought of a certain redhead back home. "Well, that isn't quite true. I don't have a biological sister, but I have a friend back home who is practically a sister to me. She helped me get ready for the dance we held in school one year." Thinking of Ginny made me feel bitter-sweet, as I associated the girl with happy memories, but, now that she was on my mind, I realized that I missed her terribly.

"Ah yes, Ron's sister."

I stared at Charlotte with wide eyes. I was certain I had yet to mention Ginny to her. "How -?"

She blushed. "I told you, I am an admirer of yours; I'm familiar with all of your close friends who played a part in the War. You were all in the news for weeks after the War."

I smiled with tight lips, still a bit uncomfortable that she appeared so familiar with those who were close to me. "Right, of course." I cleared my throat. "Well, should we go?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

She nodded exuberantly. "Yes! I will apparate us; I am more familiar with the area."

In response, I linked my arm through hers, and only moments later I felt a tug deep in my stomach, and when I opened my eyes again, we were there.

As I looked around us, everything I saw only confirmed my belief that I would be out of my element tonight. There were a few people around who seemed to be similar to us, but, for the most part, I was certain that a lot of the outfits people wore cost more than my rent. The club had opened officially a half hour ago, but we had arrived "fashionably late" so we joined the short line of people giving their names to the person at the door. Beside this line, there was a much longer one that trailed along the side of the building, snaking into the alley beside it beyond my line of sight. "What's that line for?" I asked Charlotte, jerking my chin in the direction of the other line.

"That is for people trying to get in whose names aren't on the list."

I blinked in surprise. "Will they be able to get in?" I couldn't imagine all of those people being able to fit inside the building, in addition to the people who were on the list.

Charlotte laughed. "Oh, no, no. Only people who are on the list can get in."

My brow furrowed. "Then why are they waiting?"

She shrugged. "Just to say they _almost_ got into the club, I suppose. Or possibly to catch a glimpse of some of the rich and famous coming in and out tonight."

I couldn't imagine waiting in a line all night, knowing it would lead nowhere, just for the sake of being able to say I did. I mean, we Gryffindors were known for doing some dumb things every now and again, but that was just idiotic.

Finally, it was our turn to give our names to the bouncer. Charlotte gave our names and spoke lightly to the large man in French for a moment, and then we were being ushered through the door. Practically the second my feet crossed the threshold, my senses were thrown into overdrive. A loud, thumping music filled the room, and, while the overall lights were dim, flashing, colorful lights lit up bits of the room sporadically. I had been comfortable in the light summer breeze outside, but between the heat of the bodies and the lack of air-flow in the room I was quickly growing too warm.

"Wow," I breathed.

Charlotte must have misunderstood the cause behind my proclamation, because she was smiling. "I know, isn't it incredible?" She had to bend down and practically yell in my ear to be heard. Before I could respond, she grabbed my hand and dragged me into the throng of bodies moving in the center of the room. It was all I could do just to stumble along after her as unease coiled in my stomach. I had a feeling this was going to be a long evening.

An hour later, I knew that feeling had been spot-on. I stood near Charlotte, still sipping my glass of merlot that I had gotten when we first came in. She had been dancing enthusiastically to the music all night, while I simply stuck to swaying. It wasn't as though I had anything against dancing – I actually really enjoyed dancing, I just preferred to do so with music I enjoyed instead of this bass-heavy club music. Charlotte had given up on attempting to get me to copy some of her wilder moves long ago, choosing to dance around me instead.

She had already turned away three men who had asked her to dance since we had been there. I knew she was doing it for my benefit, and I felt quite guilty, so when the fourth guy came around, I stopped her before she could wave him away. "Go ahead, I'm going to go outside for some air," I yelled into her ear.

She shot me a grateful look and nod before turning to pay attention to the interested guy.

It took me a little bit of time to squeeze and weave my way through the crowd to get to the door leading to the balcony. Twice some random person attempted to grab me, whether on purpose or because they were falling, I don't know, but both times I shook their hands off and quickly kept moving.

The relief as I stepped outside was almost instantaneous, taking effect just as quickly as my senses had been assaulted upon entering the club. I shut my eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath of the crisp night air. I felt my shoulders relax, tension release from my neck, and a small smile play at my lips against my will. Opening my eyes, I moved further out onto the balcony, the light and noise inside continuing to fade. It wasn't a particularly large space, but still spacious enough that me and a few other people could fit comfortably.

Wrapping my arms around myself as I adjusted to the sudden temperature drop, I walked slowly over to the railing. The view was breathtaking, showing bits of the historical buildings and La Seine in the distance. The city was softly aglow with the buildings' lights, but it didn't give off that harsh, artificial light. I had been here over two weeks now, yet still I hadn't grown used to the image of the city at night.

Leaning my elbows against the railing, I let myself relax and my thoughts drift to my journey so far. I had come here to heal, to rediscover myself, and to find happiness again. If I were being honest with myself, I hadn't been successful so far. Sure, spending time with Charlotte and seeing the magic of the City of Love had brought me moments of happiness, but no more than the moments I had found at home spending time with my loved ones. Although, leaving London had allowed me to escape that constant reminder of the War, which meant I no longer had that perpetual ache in my chest, but I was far from healed or happy. Still, when I went to sleep at night, that ache returned. When I was alone with my thoughts, they more often than not drifted to the War and those I lost. I continued to have nightmares, caught up in terrible memories, or memories twisted to have terrible endings. No, I was most certainly not healed.

I sighed. _It has only been two weeks, Hermione; give yourself some time_, I reminded myself. Healing, I knew, was a slow process. I had to be patient with myself. It would take time for me to be able to find my old self again. I decided then that I would make an extra effort starting the next day, immersing myself in very Hermione-esque activities. I would call my friends first thing in the morning – I was so happy I convinced them to buy mobiles – and then spend the day book shopping. Surely spending the day doing normal things that I had done before the War would help me feel like myself again.

Feeling much better with a plan in place, I straightened up, ready to go back inside. I looked toward the door leading back inside, and as soon as I saw the mass of bodies, I could practically feel the suffocating heat again. I frowned. Maybe a few more minutes outside wouldn't hurt.

I spun on my heel, ready to retake my post against the railing. When I had moved to go inside, apparently the man who had been immediately beside me had left as well, his absence revealing the person who had been standing on the other side of him. I stopped in my tracks, stifling a gasp at the sight of the last person I expected to see here.

"_Malfoy_?!"

**XXX**

**Dun dun dunnnn! You know what that means: next chapter is going to be the meeting. I am planning to post next week, but positive feedback always encourages me to write faster (wink wink). I'm really excited to share some of the stuff I have planned for the next few chapters, I just have to be able to find the time to work on them lol**

**As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Follow/favorite if you want to know when updates are posted, but as of right now I think Tuesdays are going to be my regular update days.**

**Thanks for reading! :)**


	4. The Meeting

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the late post, I've had a busy week! But I think I may make Friday's my new update day anyways. Thank you all for the kind feedback on last chapter. So, here it is, the chapter we've been waiting for, the first encounter! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to JKR.**

**XXX**

**Ch. 4: The Meeting**

I had spent most of the evening outside, as I usually did when Blaise dragged me to things like this. This was the third club he had brought me to this week, but he _swore_ this one was different. We _had_ to go! He had practically begged me, and I had given in, of course, knowing that even if I said no, he would still have somehow found a way for us to end up there.

Apparently, this one was so "different" because it was the opening night of this club that was supposed to be the next big thing in Wizarding Paris. They were all the same to me though, and I hated this one just as much as all the others. These places were always too loud, played awful music, and had far, far too many people for my taste. Ever since the War, when I would enter places that were this crowded, my palms became sweaty and it became hard to breath. Thus, I found a routine of going straight to the bar, buying a drink or two and then parking myself outside with them as soon as possible.

Blaise knew I hated these places, but he loved them – all of the women, the alcohol, the attention he got for having an influential family, he ate it right up. I probably would have resented the fact that he kept bringing me to clubs even knowing that I despised them, but, to be fair, during the days I often dragged him around to do more "boring" things, as he put it, like going to museums and such, and he put up with that even though he hated it. So, we both kept our mouths shut, and then we made it a point to do things we both enjoyed every now and again, like going to the beach or an expensive dinner. We even had gone to a quidditch match the other day.

I took a sip of my firewhiskey, glancing around at my surroundings. Unlike me, most people didn't camp out on the balcony all night, choosing instead to use it as a brief reprise from the stifling heat inside. I had tried to use a cooling charm the first time we came to a place like this, but I learned quickly that it wasn't nearly strong enough to make a dent in the heavy, humid air.

People had been coming and going all night, mostly couples, stumbling out in their drunken states. They would lean on each other, laughing and kissing, and I would in turn quickly look away from their intimate moment, very studiously shoving down the ache in my chest.

I had been in France about two weeks now, and, admittedly, it had been a much-needed break. It was like a breath of fresh air, being away from the Manor, and finally being able to walk around without people immediately knowing my past sins. I wasn't immediately met with glares and fearful retreats when I stepped outside my door, and that alone lifted a small weight from my shoulders. Blaise was a help as well, keeping me busy, and it was refreshing to be constantly surrounded by his cheerful nature.

But it was far from all good-times and smiles.

I often found my thoughts drifting to my mother, wondering if she was okay, worrying that she wasn't, worrying that my father was hurting her. I wrote her probably every other day, often sending out a second letter before she could even respond to the first. She assured me she was fine, but of course I still worried.

And then there were the nightmares. They had been a constant since the War and being away from the Manor did nothing to abate them. I had to place a silencing charm on my room every night to keep from waking Blaise. The first night, when my screams had woken him from a dead sleep down the hall, I had been mortified; I was bloody nineteen and I still woke up screaming and even – to my horror – crying on occasion. Blaise hadn't asked about it, simply made sure I was okay and let it go, knowing that I would want to ignore it, but I saw the look in his eyes. Fear. Concern. It caused guilt to settle low in my stomach, and I vowed that, to Blaise's knowledge, that would be the last nightmare I had. Of course, I still had them every night, but at least now they were private events.

So, no, I was nowhere near "healed" or "happy" or "my-old-self" or any other stupid adjectives that my mother and Blaise seemed to believe were the purpose of this trip. However, in terms of getting the hell away from my father and the Manor, I would call this trip a major success so far.

I took another slow drag of my firewhiskey, wondering how much longer Blaise was planning to stay. I had some stores I wanted to browse the next morning, and I would have preferred getting back to the house before four in the morning. This place seemed to have a lot of beautiful women, which was how Blaise occupied himself. Typically, the more women that were available to him, the longer he wanted to stay. Considering that, it probably would be a later –

"_Malfoy_?!"

I spun on my heel, nearly dropping my glass in my shock at seeing who the first person was to recognize me since I came to France. "_Granger_?!" My nose scrunched and my lips tipped down at the corners, more out of confusion than the disgust I had felt toward the girl every other time I saw her.

She took a few steps toward me, stepping further into the dim light so I could see her more clearly. My eyes widened and I felt my back straighten in further surprise as I actually looked at her. The first thing that I noticed was that her hair was a lot more tamed than it had been at Hogwarts, and now that I could finally see past it to her face, I was surprised to find that she was attractive, in a natural, delicate way. Quickly brushing past that thought, I continued to examine her. She was showing far more skin than I had ever seen her show, wearing a fitted, short skirt to reveal the curves of her legs. On top, she was wearing a shirt that dipped down in the front, with only thin strips for sleeves, baring her arms that were currently crossed in front of her as she frowned at me.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she asked, frowning. I expected her tone to hold contempt, disgust, resentment, even fear, but surprisingly enough it merely showed her curiosity.

Regaining my composure after the initial shock of seeing her, I leaned casually against the railing behind me, lifting an eyebrow at her. "Could ask the same of you."

I saw a flash of that same irritation she often showed me during our days at Hogwarts flash across her face for a moment. It was gone just as quickly though, and she simply shrugged. "Just a little vacation for the summer."

"Same for me," I responded without thinking. The fact that I was even engaging with Granger was clearly a sign of my boredom from being alone out here all evening.

"Are you here alone?" she asked. I nearly laughed at how evident it was in her features that she was struggling with her curiosity and her desire to have nothing to do with me. Apparently, her curiosity was winning.

"No," I answered simply. "Are you?"

"No."

Neither of us spoke for several moments, yet she wasn't making any moves to leave. Eventually, my curiosity got the best of me. "How did you get your name on the list? It's supposed to be very exclusive."

She instantly bristled, straightening her shoulders and setting her face in a glare. "And, what? Because I'm just some _mudblood_ there is no way I could get my name on such an exclusive list?"

I flinched at the way she carelessly tossed that word around. Not that she knew it, but I had lost my taste for the term after the events of the War. I cleared my throat. "No," I said slowly. "I was only asking because you have to know someone important in France to get your name on the list. I'm only here because Blaise's family has influence here."

She shifted her weight between her feet. It was hard to tell in the extremely dim lighting, but a light blush seemed to be coloring her cheeks.

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed," I said, enjoying her clear discomfort at being wrong.

She wrapped her arms a little tighter around herself but met my eyes with a strong gaze, already recovered from her embarrassment. "Well, for your information, my friend Charlotte was able to get us on the list."

I nodded, as that made more sense than Granger having significant influence in France – surely her war-heroine status didn't afford her the same celebrity here as it did back home.

Sensing the lull in the conversation, I turned back around, leaning my elbows against the railing. I expected her to leave, go back inside, but she continued to surprise me, coming to stand beside me a moment later, resting her elbows against the railing. I turned toward her with a raised brow.

She didn't turn to look at me, but she must have seen me regarding her from the corner of her eye. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a few moments before she spoke. "I don't really want to go back inside yet," she said quietly. "Do you mind if I…" she trailed off.

I shrugged, turning back toward the view before me. "It's a free world, Granger. Do what you like."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes, and eventually my thoughts began to drift again. Granger, however, was apparently not one for silence. "Why are you out here, anyway?" she asked.

"Bloody hell, woman, what is this? An inquisition?" I mumbled. I could feel her bristling beside me, could sense her ready to snap back at me, so I continued quickly before she had the chance. "This atmosphere isn't quite to my taste," I said dryly.

She snapped her mouth shut, as it had been open, ready to return the attitude I had given her. To my continued surprise, she snorted. "Yeah, I can understand that."

I smirked. "The night club scene isn't for goody-two-shoes Granger? Shocking."

She rolled her eyes. "It's just a bit crowded for me," she explained, even though I hadn't asked. "And hot."

I hummed in agreement, again expecting that to be the end of our discussion. Again, I was wrong.

"How can you stand it in there in long sleeves?" she asked, and I immediately stiffened. "I mean, I'm wearing this –" she gestured to herself "– and I'm dying. I can't imagine how you could wear long sleeves."

"Why do you think I'm out here," I grit out, praying she would drop it. Without realizing it, I had begun tugging on my left sleeve, making sure it fully covered my arm.

"Still, I'm sure you would be much more comfortable in there if you rolled your sleeves to your elbows at least," she said, not dropping it despite my silent pleading. "Plenty of guys roll their sleeves like that, it's really -"

"Granger!" I snapped. "Will you drop it? I wear long sleeves, and I will _not_ roll them up. End of story."

I saw her eyes, widened in surprise, drift to my right hand, which was still tugging my left sleeve as far down my wrist as it would go. When her eyes met mine again, they contained emotions I never thought I would see her look at me with – pity and perhaps a bit of guilt. It made me feel sick.

I jerked my head forward, scowling, trying desperately to ignore the embarrassment swirling in my stomach. "We aren't all so open about showing our scars," I spat.

I could tell she was still staring at me, but I refused to look at her, fearing I would see her pity again. From the corner of my eye, I saw her slowly raising her left arm toward me, the inside of her forearm facing upward. I knew what was on that arm – I still saw it some nights – and I knew that if I looked at it, the feeling that I was going to empty the contents of my stomach would only worsen. I turned my head as far from her as I could and screwed my eyes shut.

"Malfoy," she said, softly this time.

"What," I snapped, still not looking at her.

"Will you just look," she huffed, impatient with my little game.

I took a deep breath, refusing to appear weak in front of Granger of all people, and finally turned to look at her scarred arm. Except the scar wasn't there. I snapped my gaze up to meet hers. "How did you get rid of it? I know what blade she used, and it was charmed to leave a scar even magic couldn't erase. How did you do it?" I pressed. Excitement was beginning to bubble in me; if she could get rid of hers, then maybe, just maybe…

She shook her head. "I didn't." Confused, I look down again, and, now that I was looking closer, I could see bits of flesh that were raised and uneven. "It's just covered in makeup, and a little bit of magic. It's the best I can do."

"Oh." I turned to face forward again, all traces of the hope that I would be rid of this wretched mark gone.

She cleared her throat, letting her arm fall back to her side. "So, you see, I'm not really that 'open' about showing my scars either."

"So much for Gryffindor courage," I mumbled.

Surprising me for what felt like the millionth time that night, she laughed. "Guess I've run out."

When I responded, it was my turn to surprise myself. "I don't think that's possible," I said quietly, then I glanced at my empty glass. It must have been the firewhiskey talking.

She didn't say anything to that, and I refused to look at her to see her expression.

We sat in silence for several more minutes before she pushed away from the railing. "Well, I should be getting back inside." I nodded, still facing forward. She paused, clearly uncomfortable. "Malfoy, it was…" she trailed off. What was she going to say, "it was a pleasure"? Hardly. She backed away a few steps. "Good night, Malfoy."

I still didn't look at her, giving her a curt wave over my shoulder. I stayed rooted to my spot for several minutes after that, gaze fixed resolutely forward in defiance of the odd desire to check to see if she had really left.

I wanted another drink, but the idea of venturing back inside, especially now that I knew she was in there, kept me where I was. I supposed I would have to spend the rest of my evening sobering up while I waited for Blaise. Maybe that was for the best; I must have been more heavily influenced by the alcohol than I thought for me to have a civil conversation with Granger.

I thought back to the arm she had shown me, how she covered her scars in embarrassment. _Of course_, I thought bitterly, _she had nothing to be ashamed of; her scars were a hero's scars, while mine were a villain's_. Despite this, knowing that the Queen of Gryffindor herself was afraid to let people see her scars made me feel just a little less cowardly for my perpetual long-sleeves. Not that I would ever tell anyone that.

Blaise found me soon enough after that, stumbling a bit from all the alcohol he surely consumed. "Draco!" he cried, speaking far too loudly. "You missed a great night!"

I let him lean on me a bit as I steered us back toward the street. "Take it you had a good night?"

He threw his head back with a satisfied groan. "Oh, it was the _best_. The women here, I am telling you, they're incredible! Beautiful, fun, _hot_. It was great."

I patted him on the shoulder, chuckling at his drunken rambling. "Glad you had a good night, mate."

"Anything exciting happen to you?" he asked.

We were back out on the street, and I prepared to apparate us back to his house. Just before I did, I caught a glimpse of a curly haired brunette in a green top a little way down the street, also supporting a drunken friend. "No," I said. "Absolutely nothing."

**XXX**

**Woo hoo! We have contact, ladies and gents. Hope it wasn't too OOC. Also, I don't know if Bellatrix's blade was really charmed to scar but for the purpose of this scene lets just say it was. So, like I said, I think I may switch to updating on Fridays, because that just seems like a better day overall. **

**Please drop a review to let me know your thoughts! I love all feedback, and I love hearing suggestions too. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. The Incident

**Hi everyone, next chapter has arrived! This chapter is where things really get going, so I'm going to shut up and just let you guys read :)**

**Disclaimer****: I do not own Harry Potter; anything familiar belongs to JKR.**

**XXX**

**Ch. 5: The Incident**

I found it difficult to sleep that evening. After I had left Malfoy on the balcony, I went back inside and spent the remainder of the night with Charlotte. When it was time to go, I helped her get home safely, and then nearly collapsed into my bed. The entire time, despite my exhaustion, my thoughts had been racing. Seeing Malfoy, of all people, at a night club in France had definitely thrown me for a loop. Here I was, trying to get away from reminders of the War, and then I came face-to-face with a member of the other side.

_But he seemed different_. The thought had been nagging me, refusing to stay in the back of my mind where I tried to shove it. He _did_ seem different, I had to admit. The Malfoy I knew from my days at Hogwarts would have never stood there and had a fairly civil conversation with me. I mean, sure he was a little snippy here and there, but overall, he was nearly – dare I say – pleasant. It didn't escape my notice that he hadn't called me mudblood once.

It wasn't just his lack of insults that made him seem different though; his entire demeanor wasn't what I was used to. He seemed more subdued, almost timid even. I saw the look in his eyes when I brought up his long sleeves. He almost looked frightened – of what, though? That I would see his mark? That was ridiculous, I had seen it before. Regardless of what frightened him, I saw another emotion swirling in his gray eyes too: shame. That was what really had me confused. Shame was an emotion I couldn't have ever imagined seeing from Malfoy, yet it was there, clear even in the dim light. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing him look so vulnerable, even if only for a moment, that made me reveal to him that I too covered up my scars.

I was far from understanding what went on in Malfoy's mind, and frankly I didn't want to, but even from our brief interaction it was clear to me that the War had affected him too. In what ways, I wasn't sure, but he clearly had his own demons, and he certainly wasn't the same boy from our childhood.

These thoughts bounced around in my head all night as I tossed and turned, sleep always seemingly just out of reach. However, my lack of sleep was not enough to keep me from fulfilling my promise to myself of getting back on track with things that made me feel like my old self. Just as I had planned, I woke up early – though not without difficulty and a large cup of coffee. I did everything that made me feel like I was getting a good start to my day; I stretched, let in as much sunlight as I could, and took a relaxing shower. By the time I had dressed and eaten breakfast, any thoughts about Malfoy were locked firmly away in the back of my mind.

First, I penned a letter to Ginny, asking her when she may be available to come visit, as we had discussed, and then sent it off with one of the hotel's owls. Then I called my parents, just to check in, and assured them I was both safe and enjoying myself. Finally, I called Harry and Ron. Shockingly, they seemed to be more concerned and had more questions than my parents. I had to reassure them both several times that I was being safe and vigilant enough to even pass Moody's standards before they were satisfied. After my safety was verified to their satisfaction, they asked about my social life and what I had been up to. I told them about some of the various destinations I had been to, and I told them fondly of Charlotte. Ron was skeptical of her, but that was likely because he felt he was being replaced.

I thought of telling them about my encounter with Malfoy, but after how skeptical they already were about my safety, I thought it best to not give them any more reason for concern. Not that I thought Malfoy was a threat, but I knew how their minds worked, and knowing that he was here would be enough to make them both panic and get the next portkey to Paris.

After we had chatted and caught up with each other's lives, we said our goodbyes and I promised to be in touch again soon. Hanging up the phone, I felt that small ache of loneliness in my chest again, but I firmly ignored it, determined to be positive today and enjoy doing the things that made me feel like Hermione again.

I decided to walk to the bookstores I had planned on visiting, enjoying the way the summer sun warmed my face. They weren't far, and soon enough I was in the first store on my list. This one was a wizarding bookstore, and I immediately went to their small section on magical creatures; I was interested in researching other countries perspectives on the rights of various magical creatures and compare it to the ideas back home.

After about an hour in that shop – I also picked up a potions book that I thought would be both interesting and handy to have around – I decided to move on to the muggle bookstores on my list. I thought it would be good for me to pick up a few familiar books translated to French to help me brush up on the language.

The first place I entered was small and smelled quite musty. However, the elderly shop attendant was quite helpful, and very patient with my rusty French. He suggested a book of children's stories my mother had read to me many times when I was young to begin, and then he helped me find a copy of _The Great Gatsby_ to move onto when I grew more comfortable with my French.

On my way to the next store, I ran into Charlotte. She greeted me with a friendly wave and her brilliant smile. "Hermione," she called in her beautiful lilt.

"Good morning, Charlotte," I smiled in return. "I'm surprised you are out and about already; I assumed you would still be recovering from last night."

She laughed lightly. "Oh, no, I recover quite quickly," she winked. "Where are you off to?"

I waved dismissively. "Here and there. I am checking out some of the bookstores here."

She clapped her hands together. "I know just the place you should check out. It isn't far from here, and it has both English and French prints."

I brightened. "That would be perfect! I was hoping to find a place that sold English prints as well."

Charlotte nodded. "Oh, yes, then you will like this place. It is just a few blocks further down this street, on the right. You can't miss it."

"Thank you, Charlotte! Would you like to join me?"

She shook her head with a frown. "Unfortunately, I cannot. I have some tedious errands to run today," she rolled her eyes. "Boring, but they must be done."

I shrugged. "No problem, perhaps I will see you tomorrow?"

She flashed me her toothy smile again. "Most definitely. Enjoy your shopping, Hermione."

I gave her a wave as I continued on toward the bookstore. "Enjoy your errands!"

"I won't!" she called over her shoulder.

I chuckled to myself. I was glad I had Charlotte here with me. As nice as it was to get away from the reminders of the War at home, I missed my loved ones terribly, and I knew that I would have been terribly lonely without anyone here to talk to. It was lovely to have a friend I could count on in this foreign city.

True to Charlotte's word, I reached the bookstore soon enough. It was much larger than the last one I had been in, every wall covered from floor to ceiling with stacks full of books. There was even a little second floor loft that I could see held more stacks of books. "Oh my," I gasped.

A girl about my age came to stand beside me. "A bit breathtaking, isn't it?" she asked in a thick French accent.

I nodded. "It really is. I haven't been around so many books at once since, um, my library at school." I had almost said since Hogwarts, but I caught myself just in time, remembering that this girl was a muggle.

She grinned. "I know, it really is like a library in here. I am Brigitte," she said, sticking out her hand, which I shook. "I work here, so if there is anything I can help you with, please don't be afraid to ask."

"Actually," I began, "would you mind pointing me towards your English prints?"

She nodded with a knowing smile. "Bien sûr. The English prints are on the right half of the building, and the French are on the left and the second floor. If you need anything else, I will be at the front desk."

I smiled kindly. "Merci beaucoup."

Strolling casually through the aisles, I let my fingers brush lightly against the spines of the books I passed. After a few minutes of this and being surrounded by the smell of books, I felt a smile tugging my lips upward. I could easily lose myself in a place like this, spend an entire afternoon just browsing through the books without even realizing. I was happy in a place like this and being in a familiar type of environment helped me feel a bit more grounded, but – despite what I had hoped – simply immersing myself in books did not instantly transform me back into the girl I was before the War. It was an unrealistic expectation, I knew, but I couldn't help but to hope.

Nonetheless, I still was a little happier already, so I continued along through the many aisle of English prints, pulling some out on occasion to read a bit. I had picked two books out so far that I wanted to purchase, one which was a personal favorite as well as a new one that seemed appealing. I decided I would search for one more and then call it a day.

I was lost in thought, trying to determine what I wanted in my last book, and so I didn't notice there was someone around the corner I turned until I bumped right into them. My books slipped to the floor with a loud thump, and I gave out a startled squeak. The person whom I had run into grunted at the impact.

"I am so sorry!" I quickly apologized, bending down to retrieve my books. "I didn't even notice you there, that was my fault, really –" I broke off as I looked up from kneeling on the floor to see whom I had run into. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me – Malfoy? Again?"

He had an eyebrow cocked at me and a blank expression, unlike mine, which I'm sure showed my surprise and slight exasperation – I mean, seriously, what were the chances I would run into him twice in two days? "We've got to stop meeting like this," he smirked.

I rolled my eyes, straightening up. "What are you doing here? And _what_ are you _wearing_?" Now that I actually looked at him, I saw that he was wearing jeans and a light, long-sleeved sweater – muggle clothing.

He frowned, looking down at himself in what appeared to be genuine concern. "Why? Is this not right?" he asked, pulling at his sweater a bit.

I shook my head. "No, they're right," I said slowly and then dropped my voice, "but they're _muggle_ clothes."

"Really, I hadn't noticed," he deadpanned.

I put a hand on my hip, attempting to process what I was seeing. "Forgive me if I'm a bit thrown-off," I snipped, "but you have to understand that seeing you, Mr. Pureblood –" his jaw ticked at that "– wearing muggle clothing in a muggle store, is a bit shocking."

"So, what? I can't shop for some new books?" he bit out.

"Well, yes, but this is a _muggle_ –"

He cut me off. "I bloody know this is a muggle shop, Granger," he snapped. I stepped backward a bit in surprise at his sudden outburst. I saw his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath, eyes closed. When he opened them again, he was much calmer. "Two things – first, do not assume that I still hold the same beliefs that I did when I was sixteen. Second, even those who do believe in blood purity can appreciate a great piece of art, no matter if the artist is wizard or muggle. I've always read muggle books; we even have some in our library at the Manor."

I clutched my books tighter to my chest, shifting my weight between my feet. "I didn't mean to assume," I mumbled.

He shrugged. "It's not like I can exactly blame you," he said, more to himself than me.

We lapsed into silence, but he didn't walk away yet, and neither did I. I can't exactly explain why, but I believed him when he insinuated that he didn't hold the same beliefs from when he was at Hogwarts. I mean, I'm sure he wasn't exactly ready to go out and marry a muggle or anything, but, even from our brief interactions, it was clear he had changed, at least a little. Feeling the sudden need to be polite to compensate for my rude assumptions, I asked, "Who's your favorite?"

He dragged his gaze away from the shelf he had been inspecting to look at me. "What?"

"Author," I clarified. "Who's your favorite muggle author?"

He regarded the shelves again, appearing to consider the question. "Well, I enjoy F. Scott Fitzgerald – you have to admire that level of functioning alcoholism." I laughed, then quickly clamped my lips shut, refusing to acknowledge that Malfoy made me laugh. He turned to look at me, a small smile – not his trademark smirk – on his lips. After a moment, he cleared his throat and continued. "But I would have to say that Earnest Hemingway is my favorite."

"_The Great Gatsby_ is one of my favorites - I just purchased a copy actually," I replied, and this earned me another small, almost surprised smile. "But Hemingway, I have to confess I haven't read a lot from him."

He snorted. "Granger doesn't know something? What a twist."

I rolled my eyes and found that his taunt didn't bother me as I would have expected; it had more of a good-natured air. "I just haven't had the desire to read his work is all."

"Why not?"

"He has a lot of darker themes – war, death, loss," I began explaining.

"And you think you've had enough of those in real life?" he guessed.

I looked at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Well, yes, actually."

He nodded. "I can understand that perspective, but have you ever considered that maybe reading about characters who experience similar things to you can help you overcome some of your experiences?"

I tipped my head in thought. "No, honestly, I had never thought of it that way."

He shrugged. "He has some great books, may be worth checking them out."

I nodded. "I think I may just take you up on that." We sat in silence for a moment before I spoke up again. "I'm sorry," I began, "but this is just – I mean you and I being _civil_ – it's just," I stumbled.

"Mildly unsettling?" he finished.

I bobbed my head up and down. "Yes," I sighed. "Exactly. I feel like a fish out of water."

He scrunched up his nose. "Me too. Perhaps we should insult each other? To reorient ourselves?"

"Good idea. I'll start: you're so pale it looks like you haven't seen the sun for years."

He quirked an eyebrow. "And your hair is so large it could easily house a family of squirrels. Better?"

"Much," I said with a small smile, which he returned. Growing uncomfortable again, I cleared my throat and we both glanced away. "Well," I said after a pause, "would you mind giving me a recommendation for Hemmingway?"

"Sure, they have some of his books a few aisles over." He turned to go find them, and I followed after, ignoring how odd it was that Malfoy and I were now past the point of being civil and near crossing the line into getting along.

After we passed two aisles, Malfoy turned left into the next one, strolled halfway down, regarded the books, and pulled one from the shelf. He began turning toward me, beginning to extend the book. "This one –" he began, but quickly cut off as he turned fully toward me, eyes wide as he looked at something over my shoulder. "Granger!" he cried suddenly, and, before I could even react, he lunged toward me, knocking me to the ground. Just in time, too, because not even a second later a green jet of light flew directly where I had been standing.

I spun from where I was kneeling on the ground just in time to catch a glimpse of the foot of someone as they ran away. I tried to scramble to my feet to go after them, my wand already out, but Malfoy grabbed my arm to stop me. "You'll never catch them, only draw attention to yourself and cause a scene," he reasoned as we both stood.

I glanced fervently between him and the spot where my attacker had been. "But –"

He shook his head, hand still on my arm. "Just ignore that Gryffindor courage for a minute and use your brain – I know you have one. Someone just tried to _kill_ you, Granger. Charging off after them alone, in a muggle area, is dangerous and stupid. For all you know, it could be a trap; they could be luring you away to where they have a larger group waiting."

I chewed on my lip, knowing his logic was sound, but having a hard time just letting the person go. Finally, I knew he was right, so I nodded. Only then did he release his grip on my arm. My skin prickled where his hand had been.

"What the hell was that?" I muttered, still glancing over my shoulder.

"Come on, Granger, you've been through a war the same as me; you know exactly what that was."

I shook my head, trying to make some sense of what had just happened. "But I don't understand," I continued. "Why would someone try to kill me?"

He frowned, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. "I don't know."

I stared at the spot the attacker stood, still not understanding, and then gave my head one last shake. "I need to get back home."

Malfoy grabbed me again, this time by the shoulder in order to spin my back towards him. "Granger, you are not that bloody stupid, are you? Someone is trying to kill you! Home is the last place you should go, especially alone."

I glared at him, no longer in the mood to put up with his sharp attitude. "What would you propose I do then?" I bit out through clenched teeth.

He rolled his eyes, strode past me toward the checkout counter. "You can come to Blaise's house to lay-low for a while."

I stopped in my tracks. He had to be kidding. "No way," I laughed.

He turned to give me an annoyed look. "It's that or probable death."

I hesitated.

"Granger!"

Fighting past the childish urge to stomp my foot, I settled for a dramatic huff of frustration. "Fine! I guess time with you is preferable to probable death."

"Oh, how you flatter me; truly, you are too kind," he quipped as I made my purchases.

I was already second guessing my choice; I mean it was only _probable_ – I could take those odds, right?

**XXX**

**Things are happening now, people! Super excited about some of the things I have planned :)**

**As always, reviews are super appreciated - I love to hear what everyone thinks! I am totally open to suggestions and improvements.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. The Only Option

**Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the responses to the last chapter. This chapter is a little bit shorter, but that is just kind of how it worked out with what I have planned. Regardless, I think you guys will still enjoy - especially the ending ;)**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to JKR.**

**XXX**

**Ch. 6: The Only Option**

"Come on, I know a safe place we can go to regroup," I said, gesturing for Granger to follow me out of the store.

I quickly led her out a back entrance, into an alleyway that was hidden from muggle eyes and was perfect for apparating to Blaise's house. Once the door to the store was shut firmly behind us, I stopped and reached out to grab her by the arm.

"What are you doing?" she cried, yanking her arm away from me so forcefully she nearly fell over backwards into the brick wall of the building. Her brown eyes were not wide with fear as I would have expected, but instead narrowed in what seemed more like suspicion.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I mocked. "Would you like to apparate us to Blaise's home, to which you have never been?"

Her face grew flushed, and, judging by the way her eyes narrowed even further and her face pinched up, I knew it was from anger and not embarrassment. "I _meant_," she snapped, "what are you doing helping me? What do you care if I live or die?"

I rolled my eyes. "Granger, someone just tried to bloody kill you; do you really want to do this right now?" She stood resolutely in front of me, arms crossed and expression unmoving. I groaned. "Merlin's beard, Granger! Just because you annoy the piss out of me doesn't mean I want you to _die_. Despite what you may think, I'm not so evil as to throw you to the wolves in a foreign county away from everyone you know."

Her expression wavered for a moment, but she still wouldn't budge. "I don't trust you."

She was an absolute mule, this woman, I swear. "Granger," I said slowly, losing my patience. "If I wanted you dead, why in the bloody hell would I have shoved you out of the way back there?"

She lifted her chin. "To lure me into trusting you so that you could bring me somewhere more private to kill me," she said as though it were obvious.

I stared at her. "You're a lunatic." She stepped back again when I reached for her arm; apparently the pure lunacy of her logic was lost on her. I tilted my head back, eyes closed, and took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. When I felt more composed, I turned to look at what had to be the most stubborn woman on the planet. Despite my inner feelings, I let my features soften, hoping to ease her concerns. "Granger," I said, softly this time. "Someone is trying to kill you, and it isn't me. I know you have a very poor opinion of me, and I will be the first to admit that I am many terrible things, but a killer is not one of them and I think you know that." I saw a crack in her shell, and I pushed forward. "But if that isn't enough to convince you, just think logically. I have had so many opportunities to hurt you, and yet I haven't. That person back there though, they very much tried to hurt you. The longer we wait out here, the more you are taking a risk." Her shoulders sagged a little as she looked away from me. I knew the bookworm wouldn't have been able to resist sound logic. "Now, will you please let me bring you to Blaise's house? It's warded and everything, so it's a safe place to make a plan."

Still not looking at me, she held out her right forearm. I grasped it lightly, ignoring how weird it felt to be voluntarily touching her, and apparated us away before she could change her mind.

Luckily for us, Blaise was out running errands of his own this morning, which gave me time to think of answers for the thousands of questions I knew he would have. I groaned internally at the mere thought of the hell he would give me for helping the girl who used to be the subject of many of my angry rants back at Hogwarts. I could picture his smug grin already, practically hear the innuendos he would surely make.

Once we were safely inside the house, I used my grip on Granger's arm to steer her towards the sitting area. "Stay here," I said as I lightly pushed her towards one of the plump couches.

She plopped down unceremoniously and frowned at me. "Where are you going?" she asked my back.

Ignoring her, I went straight to the kitchen to make tea. I always thought better with a fresh cup in my hands, and the manners that had been drilled into me since birth had me making a cup for Granger as well without a thought. They were ready in mere seconds with the assistance of a little magic, and I returned to find Granger exactly where I left her, albeit begrudgingly judging by her demeanor. I set the cup gently in front of her and then settled in the armchair across from her with mine. When I noticed she had yet to move other than to fix her glare suspiciously at the cup, I sighed. "Granger, if I was going to kill you, poisoning your tea would not be how I did it; poison just doesn't have the same satisfaction," I attempted to joke.

She snapped her glare up to me. "Well you would know, wouldn't you?"

I looked quickly away, not wanting her to see how much her words actually stung. The unintended effects of the cursed and poisoned items that I had meant for Dumbledore during sixth year were frequent visitors of my nightmares. Her words weren't exactly wrong, but that only made them sting all the more. "Fair enough," I mumbled, still staring blankly to my right.

A few moments passed, and only when I saw her reach for the cup and take a sip out of the corner of my eye did I turn toward her again. Simple as the action seemed, her small step of trust toward me made me feel the slightest bit less like the sad excuse for a human being that I did when I thought of my past sins.

I cleared my throat. "Alright, well, let's get to work; who would want to kill you?"

"Aside from you?"

"Granger," I started to protest, but she was smirking, clearly joking. "Ha ha," I mocked. "But seriously, if we can find out who the threat is then it will be much easier to make sure they are no longer a threat and then we can both return to our lives."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You can return to your life at any point, you know. This doesn't involve you."

"We've already been over this, Granger. As odd as it is, I may be the only ally you have here, and I'm not _that_ cruel that I would just let someone kill you. Besides, if something happened to you and Potter found out I could have done something about it, I'm fairly sure he would hunt me down and have my head."

She laughed at that – a full, genuine laugh, unlike the small snorts she had given me in the past. "You have a point there. But you aren't my only ally here, I have a friend in the city named Charlotte – the one who got me into the club, remember?"

I narrowed my eyes at this, thinking as I took a slow sip of my tea. "And you met Charlotte when you arrived here?" She nodded. "And just how sure are you that you can actually trust Charlotte?"

"What are you suggesting?" she said, aghast at my implications.

I shrugged. "I'm just saying, you don't know her well, she is a new factor in your life, could be suspicious." I took a long sip of tea, letting her digest what I had just suggested.

She placed her now empty cup on the table with more force than necessary before crossing her arms over her chest. "Charlotte has been nothing but a great friend since I met her."

"How did you meet her, exactly?"

She hesitated. "Well, she recognized me when I was in a café, and she approached me."

I blinked. "You do understand that that sounds suspicious, right? Some stranger just recognizes you for your celebrity status and befriends you. Sounds stalkerish really. Perhaps she is obsessed with you and has gone bonkers so now she wants to kill you."

"That is enough! Charlotte is a good friend, and that is that."

I leaned back in my seat, totally unfazed by her little tantrum. "Then why aren't you with her?"

She huffed. "I don't want to put her in danger, obviously."

"Oh, but putting me in danger is fine," I snorted.

She shrugged. "You offered."

I felt my lips twitch. "I suppose you have me there. Fine, if Perfect-Miss-Charlotte is off the suspect list, then I ask again, who would want to kill you?"

She drew her legs up beneath her and sank further into the couch as she got lost in thought. I noticed a slight frown forming and a crease appeared between her brows. It was an expression I had seen on the girl often in our classes, though sometimes that felt like an entire lifetime ago. To see her making the same expression here, in Blaise's home in France as we drank our tea together felt utterly surreal. "Well," she said eventually, pulling me from my thoughts, "it isn't like there is anyone in particular. Former death eaters or supporters of Voldemort and his cause, but that isn't particularly helpful."

I sighed. "No, I suppose it isn't, especially considering how many of his supporters remained hidden and are still hidden, probably waiting for their next opportunity."

She tried to hide it, but I saw her release a small shudder at the thought. "This is going to be more difficult than I thought," she mumbled, almost to herself.

I nodded in agreement, trying and failing to run through possible suspects in my mind.

"Well, then if we can't figure out who is trying to kill me, what do we do?"

I stood. I had had a feeling it would come to this. In fact, I was waiting for the opportunity to bring it up since we left the shop. "You go back home."

She leapt to her feet as well. "What?" she cried.

"Go home. You'll be safer there; you can stay with your band of misfits and report the incident to the aurors to investigate. Hell, for you, they may even assign round-the-clock guards. Plus, there's a chance the wannabe-killer won't follow you." I shrugged. "Seems like the most reasonable option."

She looked horrified. "I will do no such thing! Someone out there wants me dead, and I will not just run away and let them go free!"

Of course she would want nothing to do with the most reasonable option. I rolled my eyes. "Stupid Gryffindors, with your foolish courage. Does self-preservation mean nothing to you?"

She stood straighter. "Of course it means something, but not at the cost of my sanity. I cannot go on knowing my attempted murderer is just on the loose out there – I'll lose my mind."

I sighed, running a hand over my tired face. I hated to admit it, but I actually understood her reasoning there. "Fine, then you can borrow one of my owls to write a letter to Potter so he can come up here and help you."

"I'm not doing that either."

"You are bloody killing me."

She put her hands on her hips. "Harry is an absolute worrywart, and his auror training has only made that worse. He barely even let me come here to begin with. If I tell Harry then he is just going to worry his head off and demand I come back home, which we just established is not an option."

I flopped back down in my seat. "Okay, so just to recap: you won't contact your only friend here, or your friends from home, and you won't go back home."

"Correct."

"And you can't go back to your hotel because whoever tried to kill you most likely knows where you live and has a trap in place."

"Right."

"So that leaves you with one option," I frowned.

"I believe it does."

"Are you sure this is seriously the most appealing option?"

She scoffed. "Most appealing? Not at all. But it is the only option I have left."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, wondering what that hell I was getting myself into. I knew as soon as I spoke the words that I was going to regret this. "Well then, welcome to your new home, roomie."

**XXX**

**Exciting things are coming! I'm hoping this interaction didn't seem too ooc; I tried to make it clear that this kind of was the only logical option for the both of them, and this is the reason they find themselves here. If anyone has any suggestions or issues with my portrayals of the characters I would love to hear them! Also, I am moving back into school next week, so I'm hoping to keep my updates regular but that may be a little difficult, so just a heads up!**

**Reviews would be very lovely, I want to know what everyone thinks! **

**Thanks for reading :)**


	7. You'd be Surprised

**Hey everyone! First of all, thank you so much for the response to last chapter! I got some very nice reviews, and a bunch of new followers - we're over 100 now, which is AWESOME! Hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter just as much. It was pretty fun to write!**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Harry Potter; all rights belong to JKR.**

**XXX**

**Ch. 7: You'd be Surprised**

If you had asked me a month ago, "What's the worst turn your trip to Paris could take?", my answer would not have been, "living with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini while my attempted murderer was on the loose," simply because I never would have even imagined it, even in my wildest nightmares. Yet here I was, sitting at the kitchen table in the Zabini home in France, with Malfoy and Zabini whispering in the other room.

Once Malfoy and I had come to the unsettling conclusion that staying here – as temporarily as possible, of course – was my only option, I had asked to borrow an owl in order to pen a letter to Charlotte telling her to stay away from my hotel. I didn't want to tell her the truth, fearing that, like Harry, she would overreact and possibly endanger herself in the process. Instead, I made up some false story about a pest infestation taking over the hotel, and I told her vaguely that I would be staying with an old classmate nearby for the time being. I hoped desperately that she wouldn't look closely enough to poke holes in my story.

Signing the letter, I cast a quick drying spell over the ink, folded it and rose to bring it to Malfoy to send with his owl. However, as I approached the doorway leading back into the front room, I heard my name being tossed back and forth in hushed voices. Curiosity getting the best of me, I tucked myself behind the wall, listening closely to the two boys on the other side.

"This is bloody hilarious," Zabini was saying.

"Yes," I heard in Malfoy's trademark sarcastic lilt, "a killer is on the loose, what a riot!"

When Zabini spoke again, I could practically hear his eyeroll. "Okay, obviously that part isn't so funny, but, come on! This is Granger, the bane of your existence, the only thing that stopped you from being top in our year, the cause of so many of your rants back in the Slytherin common room, the -"

"I get the point, Blaise."

"Right, so this is _Granger_ and not only do you save her life, but then you invite her to stay with us, while you two – what? Team up with the rest of the Scooby gang and solve the mystery?"

I rolled my eyes at the reference, but Malfoy clearly didn't understand. "The what?"

"You blood-supremacists really are missing out on some great pop culture," Zabini huffed. It was then that I recalled that, despite Zabini's pureblood and Slytherin status, there had been a television in the sitting room. "Anyway," he continued, "that doesn't matter. My point is that if fifth-year Malfoy could see you right now he would probably punch you in the face and ask what the hell is wrong with you."

"Oh, now it's wrong to save someone's life? Sorry, I must have missed the memo."

"I'm serious, Draco; if you're just doing this out of guilt, like it's some kind of repentance for what happened during the War, then I've told you before how I feel about that mindset." Zabini's voice had grown softer, but I still managed to hear. It was a strange concept for me, imagining Malfoy feeling emotions like guilt and remorse, but, then again, I suppose him saving my life was a strange concept as well.

"It's not that, it's just…" he trailed off, then sighed. "Well, I can't really explain it."

There was a lull in the conversation, and I recognized my opportunity. I stepped into the room, clearing my throat to make my presence known. Both boys turned their gazes toward me, but I looked directly at Malfoy. I raised my letter. "I've finished, if you wouldn't mind letting me use your owl."

He nodded and stood to approach me. I could feel Zabini's eyes on me, but I refused to look toward him, choosing to deal with only one snake at a time. "I'll bring it out to the owl right now," Malfoy said as he plucked the letter from my hand, and then he was gone without pause.

With Malfoy gone, I had no choice but to meet the gaze of my other host. He was looking at me, an unreadable, but not unkind expression on his face. Suddenly he sat up straighter. "I'm an awful host, I'm sorry. Please, sit," he smiled, gesturing to the chair across from him.

I moved robotically, extremely thrown off by Zabini's actions. Though our interractions were quite limited, he was far from anything I had expected. "Um, thanks," I said.

"Can I get you anything? Biscuits? Tea?"

I opened my mouth to respond – with what, I don't even know – but I was interrupted before I could. "We already had tea," Malfoy said as he reentered the room.

Zabini looked at him with a smirk and a raised brow. "Oh, now there's a limit on how much tea you can drink? Sorry, I must have missed the memo."

Malfoy rolled his eyes as he flopped down onto the couch beside Zabini. "I really hate you sometimes, you know."

Zabini seemed completely unfazed by this. He merely smirked before leaning forward in his seat and clapping his hands together. "So," he began loudly, "what's the next move?"

"Well, if I'm going to be staying here, I need to retrieve my things," I said, already having thought ahead.

"That's not possible," Malfoy scoffed.

I turned toward him, already feeling the beginnings of a scowl on my face. "Oh, and why is that?"

He threw his arms up. "We've been over this! Trap, remember? The whole reason you're staying here?"

"Yes, I_ remember_," I snipped. "But what do you expect me to do? I have no clothes, no nothing."

Malfoy appeared at a loss for ideas, turning to stare moodily out the window. Zabini, however, was quicker to think. "Well, what are the odds that the killer is still there? I mean, it isn't like they can camp out there forever. They probably just went straight there to wait for you, then, when you didn't show up, they left. Surely it will be safe to go back to get your stuff soon enough."

"You have a point," Malfoy allowed.

"First of all," I said, holding up a finger, "it is disturbing how your Slytherin minds work. I mean, seriously, it sounds like you've planned something like this out before. Second," I ticked up a second one, "if that is the case, why can't I just go back to my room and stay there? Like you said, it isn't like they can wait around forever."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like, "Bloody Gryffindors."

Zabini shot him a look and responded to me much more openly. "Just because they can't wait forever doesn't mean they won't come back."

"And you sitting there, all alone, when they do, well, you'll be a sitting duck," Malfoy continued for him.

I narrowed my eyes. "I will not be a 'sitting duck'," I said, offended at the comparison. "I did survive and win a war, remember."

"I wasn't questioning your ability, I think we all know you're more than capable of handling yourself," Malfoy said. My eyes widened at his admission, but he continued before I could analyze whether or not that was actually a compliment. "The issue is more that they could show up when you're sleeping, or with twenty men, or catch you completely by surprise and overpower you. You'd have to be constantly on alert, which isn't possible, and may not even be enough if they brought more people."

He actually made some very sound points, which was extremely annoying. "I suppose that's true," I conceded.

"So, really, your options are to stay here or have someone stay with you at your hotel," Zabini explained.

I sighed. "I guess staying here does make more sense, but that doesn't change the fact that I need to get my things."

We were all silent for a bit, thinking of plans. Finally, Malfoy spoke up. "Okay, how about one of us goes to your hotel, stakes it out for a bit to see if anyone is there, and then when we know it's safe the three of us all go there while you _quickly_ gather what you need."

"Not a bad idea," Zabini said.

They both looked at me. I shrugged. "Seems like it would work."

"Great," Malfoy said, and then he turned to Zabini. "So, which of us is going to stake out the hotel?"

Zabini made a dramatic show of thinking about it, balling his hand into a fist which he tucked under his chin, staring off into the distance. Then, he said, "Oh, that's a tough one, but I'm going to have to go with, since it's _your_ plan, _you_ do the work."

Malfoy stood with a groan. "I don't know why I even asked."

Zabini smirked and waggled his fingers in a wave goodbye. I was again utterly thrown off by how un-Slytherin the boy really was. In fact, I was still staring at him in confusion when Malfoy spoke to me, and I completely missed what he had said. "Sorry?" I spluttered.

"I said, can I have the name of your hotel and the room number?" He held out a piece of paper and quill.

"Oh, right, of course," I said hastily, grabbing the offered items and quickly jotting it down.

After I handed him the paper, he regarded it for a moment, nodded, said, "I'll be back," and apparated away.

I turned back to Zabini, who was still smirking. "And then there were two," he said.

"Lovely," I mumbled, then cleared my throat uncomfortably. "Look, um, thank you, for letting me stay here, I mean. I appreciate it."

Zabini literally waved my thanks away with a flick of his wrist. "Please, no need for thanks. This place is huge, and what am I going to do, throw you out on the street while someone tries to kill you? I'm not some monster."

I shrugged. "Still, thank you."

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "You're welcome."

We fell into a slightly awkward silence. I drummed my fingers lightly on my knee, looking out at the view out the window. We were in the countryside, and we had a lovely view of some rolling hills.

"You know, you're shockingly calm for someone who has a killer on the loose." I turned back to find Zabini looking at me in curiosity.

My lips tugged upward in a faint smirk. "I suppose I've had so many people trying to kill me in the past that I've grown a bit desensitized to it."

He tilted his head in thought. "Yeah, I guess you would."

He was still looking at me, and my curiosity was finally getting the best of me. "Zabini?" I asked.

"Oh please, call me Blaise. I never understood Draco's excessive surname usage."

I smiled a bit at that. "Okay, Blaise?"

"Yes?"

I thought of how best to phrase what I wanted to ask and decided to just go for it. "What side were you on during the War?"

At this, Blaise frowned for the first time since I had gotten here. "Well, I suppose I didn't really join either side. You could say I was on 'side Blaise' even."

"What do you mean by that? I mean, I don't remember seeing you at all really during everything – where were you?"

He shrugged. "I did whatever I had to to stay alive. I played nice with my fellow Slytherins and purebloods, but I didn't make enemies of you and your side either. Honestly, I mostly tried to fly under the radar. I stayed in Hogwarts as long as possible, keeping my head down, but then at the last minute, when things really escalated, my mother pulled me out and she brought us here. France wasn't involved in the War, so we hid out here until everything died down."

I had been unconsciously leaning forward as he spoke, and I now sat with my elbows on my knees. "I don't understand," I told him. "You're not a blood-supremacist?"

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "No, I think that's all a bunch of bullshit."

"But, you're a pureblood?"

He quirked an eyebrow at that. "So is your friend Neville, is he a blood-supremacist?"

"Well, no, but he's –"

"A Gryffindor?" Blaise finished for me. "And, what? Because I'm a Slytherin it automatically makes me hate anyone with 'un-pure' blood? Last I checked ambition and cleverness were the Slytherin traits, not bigotry and hate."

I sat back in surprise. "You're right, I'm sorry for assuming."

He sat back too, any traces of the previous heat in his expression gone. "No, I don't blame you for assuming; I'm really more of the exception than the rule, if we're being honest here."

I let out a small laugh at that. "You have a point there."

"Besides," he continued. "I should be the one apologizing."

"For what?" I blanched.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I may not have supported the other side, but I didn't exactly stand up for people like you either. If your side had lost, I wouldn't have done a damn thing about it. I put self-preservation above doing the right thing, and for that I am sorry."

I wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. It wasn't as though I could tell him it was alright, because really, it wasn't – if everyone had the same mindset, we would live in a world run by evil right now. Instead, I decided to say, "Well, we can't all have the famous Gryffindor courage." I smiled, and Blaise quickly followed suit.

"No, I suppose you're right."

"So, how did you end up with your beliefs? If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind," he said. "I guess from my mother. It's only been me and her as long as I can remember, you see." I think he could tell I was about to tell him I was sorry about that, because he quickly went on. "Don't be sorry – my father is not missed. Anyway, my mother, despite being a pureblood, has always been appreciative of muggle things. She loves fashion, and muggle fashion is so far ahead of ours, so that's where it started for her. And then she found television, and she absolutely adored that, so she had one installed in all of our homes. It went on and on like that, her finding little things she liked about the muggle world. So, for me, I've just always grown up around muggle things. When I was young, I had both a wizard and muggle tutor; my mum appreciated the importance of muggle concepts like math and science. That's why I think blood-supremacy is idiotic, because first, it has no logical foundation, and second, there are so many things we could get from muggles that would make our lives even better. I mean, I know we have magic, but come on, it isn't like we can just ignore science," he laughed.

I grinned. "I've always thought the same thing. I always made sure to continue reading muggle textbooks even as I went through Hogwarts," I explained.

"Of course you did – you're a nerd."

I laughed, knowing that he was teasing. "Okay, so now I have to ask, if you have these beliefs – well – how do you and Malfoy get along?"

He rolled his eyes at that. "Don't let Draco fool you – he isn't who he appeared to be when we were at Hogwarts."

"How do you mean?"

He contemplated his response for a moment. "Well, that's really something you should speak to him about, not me. But all I will say is that I would describe Draco as a child as a parrot – repeating things he heard and not understanding them. Obviously, it is much more complicated than that, but, like I said, that is really something that should be between you two; it shouldn't come from me."

"Are you saying Malfoy doesn't really believe that stuff?" I asked, extremely incredulous.

He shrugged. "I'm saying he isn't who he appeared to be at Hogwarts, and, if you're going to be staying with us, I would ask that you give him an open-minded chance."

I scoffed. "I'll do that when he promises the same of me."

"You'd be surprised."

Before I could ask Blaise any further questions, a loud _crack_ signaled Malfoy's return. He looked at me with a bored expression, then turned to Blaise. Something he saw in Blaise's expression must have told him something, because he asked, "What were you two talking about?"

Blaise merely waved him off. "Nothing important. Now come on, was there anyone there?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No, it looked completely deserted, and I even got closer and cast a few spells. I'll want to cast a few more spells to double check before we go in, but I say we go now."

Blaise and I both nodded and stood. I took Blaise's arm to side-along apparate him since he didn't know where we were going, and then we were off.

I was focused intently on apparting, but still, in the back of my mind, Blaise's words kept replaying.

_You'd be surprised._

**XXX**

**Credit for the idea for this Blaise and Hermione interaction goes to one of my friends, and, if you're reading this, I believe you know who you are ;) So, just a heads up that I may not be able to update next week, or it may be a late if I do. I'm moving back into college this weekend and next week is my first week of classes so that may be a little crazy. I'll do my best, but just no promises. Hope everyone liked this chapter, a little bit of background on Blaise, and perhaps some ideas forming and doors opening in Hermione's mind? We shall see!**

**Reviews are always appreciated, I love to hear what you guys think!**

**Thanks for reading :)**


	8. For the First Time

**Hi, everyone! Sorry for the delayed update; like I said last week, I moved back into college, and I started classes. I'm already drowning in work, so it has been a little difficult finding time to write. But, alas, I did find the time to get this chapter out to you guys! Thanks so much for the patience :) Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer****: I do not own HP, all rights go to JKR.**

**Also, since it has been a while, here's a super quick recap in case anyone needs it: Hermione and Blaise and Draco all go to Paris to get away; Hermione and Draco run into each other - twice. Someone tries to kill Hermione, so Draco brings her back to Blaise's, and they decide the only safe thing for her to do is stay with them until they catch the killer. Hermione realizes she needs her things from her hotel, so they devise a plan to get them. And here we are...**

**XXX**

**Ch. 8: For the First Time**

"Okay, is everybody clear on the plan?" I asked the two that stood beside me. We were huddled in the dark corner of the alley across the street from Granger's hotel, preparing for our mission to retrieve Granger's things. Granger gave a curt nod, and I turned to find Blaise giving me a sheepish smile.

"Actually, mate, I'm not going to lie to you – I wasn't quite listening. Mind running it through for me one more time?"

I shut my eyes and counted to ten in my head, reminding myself, as I always did when Blaise got under my skin, that he really was a great friend. When I reached ten, I opened my eyes. "Listen carefully, Blaise, because I'm not saying this again. I'm going to go into the lobby while you two wait out here. Once I make sure the lobby is clear, I'll send out my patronus to give you the all-clear. Then – and _only_ then, Blaise – do you two come inside. When we're inside, stay on alert; just because I checked the area doesn't mean there's no chance of a threat. Then we'll make our way up to Granger's floor and go from there. Got it?"

Granger, once again, gave a curt nod of affirmation. Despite all her trademark Gryffindor bravery, she had been very quiet since we left the house, and I noticed a slight bounce in her left leg. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought she was nervous, borderline frightened.

Dragging my gaze from Granger, I found Blaise staring at a poster on the alley wall beside us. "Blaise!" I snapped.

"What?!" he returned, whipping his head in my direction with wide eyes.

I threw my arms out to my sides. "Were you even listening?"

"Of course I was!"

I gave him an incredulous look, which he answered with what he obviously thought was a serious face, but really just made him look like he had to go to the bathroom.

"Don't worry; I listened well enough for the both of us," Granger said quietly.

I nodded. "Good, thank you. Well, then I'm going to go. I want to get this over with as soon as possible." I looked to Granger again. She was chewing on her bottom lip. "We're going to be fine," I told her, feeling unsettled to see her so nervous.

She blinked in a bit of surprise, but then nodded and gave me a small smile.

Feeling that small weight lifted, I turned on my heel and walked quickly toward the hotel.

I kept my eyes searching for anything that could be a threat or seemed unusual, all while maintaining an unsuspecting demeanor. It was a skill I had acquired during the War, and I had it nearly perfected at this point.

Once in the lobby, I casually walked over to a display of brochures describing things to do around the area. I picked one up at random and pretended to browse it, while in actuality I was scanning the area to make sure it was clear. Other than one employee tapping at a computer behind the counter, the place was empty. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, so I quickly and covertly cast the spell, whispered the message and my phoenix patronus wisped away to deliver the message to the two waiting outside.

Two minutes went by before they came in. Watching them walk in, the differences in them that had been created during the War became blaringly apparent. While Blaise strolled in, eyes trained directly on me, not even bothering to look at his surroundings, I saw Granger approaching more cautiously, using the same methods that I had when I'd entered the building, taking in her surroundings without drawing attention to herself. She was a soldier, clearly still affected by the traumas of war; Blaise, never having the quite same exposure to brutality and death as we had, still was able to maintain some of his innocence and carefree attitude. He didn't walk around with the same paranoia looming over him that Granger and I did.

They reached me, and I threw the brochure back down, quickly striding toward the elevators with them trailing behind me. Waiting for it to descend, I tapped my foot in impatience. Finally, it gave an overly cheerful _ding!_ and the doors slid open before us. Luckily for us, the small space revealed was empty, and I quickly ushered them in and shut the doors behind us to make sure it stayed that way. I felt tension building in my muscles, a familiar feeling from the War, like a rubber band pulled too tight.

Granger reached across me to punch the number for her floor. "What next?" she said as we started to lift.

I was surprised to find her actually looking to me to lead, but I recovered quickly from that shock. "When we get to your floor, step just outside the elevator, and be on alert the second those doors open. Once we make sure the hallway is clear, Blaise, your job is going to be to stay on hallway patrol to make sure no one comes towards the room. Then, Granger, you and I will go to your room. We'll cast some charms before we go in to make sure it is still vacant, and then we'll go in, I'll stand guard and you can collect your things as quickly as possible."

As I finished speaking our ascent slowed. None of us actually drew our wands, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves in case someone harmless stood on the other side of the door, but we hovered our hands just above them. I had a protection spell ready in my mind.

The elevator made its obnoxious noise again. The doors slid open to reveal an empty hallway.

"Oh, thank God," I heard Blaise whisper behind me.

I remained intensely focused as I stepped just outside the doors, scanning as I did so. I saw Granger do the same, and then Blaise stepped out, not so much scanning as whipping his head back and forth.

Everything appeared to be clear, and when I cast a quick spell to make sure no one was hiding under a disillusionment charm or anything, nothing was revealed. I signaled with my hand for them to follow me and we continued toward Granger's room down the hall. When we were a few doors away, I motioned for Blaise to stay there in order to guard the hall. Granger and I continued, pausing on either side of the doorframe when we reached her room.

She had her key ready, but I held up a hand to stop her. I again cast a series of spells, all meant to reveal if anyone was on the other side of the door, hidden or otherwise. After a minute of this, with each turning out negative, I was satisfied enough to let her open the door. This time though, I did draw my wand and I had it out and ready the moment she swung the door open.

No one was there. In fact, the place looked absolutely normal; I had expected it to at least have been ransacked.

I felt more than heard Granger step up beside me, her wand also raised and at the ready. "It seems clear," she told me.

I nodded. "It does. Alright, I'll stay out here, just go gather what you need and be quick about it; I don't want to be here any longer than we have to."

She nodded and hurried off into the other room. Keeping my guard up, I allowed my eyes to scan the room and actually take it in. I was standing in a little area that appeared to be both the living and kitchen space. To the right – where Granger had gone – appeared to be the bedroom, and I assumed the bath as well.

The space was kept much tidier than I would have expected – I always assumed those Gryffindors were a messy lot. The only true "mess" was the coffee table in front of the couch, which was covered in a pile of books. Absolutely typical.

A few minutes went by and all I heard was a few drawers opening and closing. Then, out of nowhere, I heard a shriek.

Muscles working faster than my mind, I ran straight towards the source of the noise. The bedroom was empty, but I quickly found Granger in the bathroom. "Granger!" I cried. No one was around, but she was standing in the bathroom, a hand over her mouth and eyes wide. "What's wrong? What happened?"

She drew her hand away from her mouth, but it merely fluttered open and closed. Realizing she was unable to speak, she merely gestured in front of herself with her hand. Finally catching on, I followed her gaze to see that she had been staring at the mirror. The mirror, which was covered by the words, YOU WILL DIE MUDBLOOD, written in what looked like blood.

"Bloody hell," I muttered. I turned back to Granger. "We're leaving – now." She didn't make any move to leave. I grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her out of the bathroom. She stumbled a bit, and this seemed to drag her from her haze.

"Oh my God," she said. "They were in here. I didn't actually think anyone would have gotten in here."

"Yeah, well, obviously they did which is why we need to go now." I pushed her toward the door.

"Wait!" She dug her heels in the carpet. "I'm not finished getting my things."

I groaned. "Granger!"

She scurried past me. "I'm almost done, just wait!" She bounced between drawers, collecting things as she went.

"Granger, are you or are you not a witch?" I asked. She looked up at me from where she had been stuffing something into her trunk. With a roll of my eyes and a flick of my wand, drawers all around the entire suite burst open, and all her things floated neatly down into her trunk. Even her books that had been on the table in the other room squeezed past me to sink down into their spot. The trunk lid snapped shut, locking itself. I raised an eyebrow at her.

Granger was blushing. "Right, of course, guess I'm just a little off today."

Suddenly, all of the cockiness I had felt at one-upping her vanished. Instead, I felt a bit embarrassed at my arrogance. I cleared my throat. "Well, that is understandable." She nodded, still blushing. "Right then, let's get the hell out of here."

This time at least she remembered to levitate her trunk so that she didn't have to lug it around.

We quickly made our way back out into the hall. As soon as Blaise saw us, he rushed over to us. "Hermione! Are you okay?"

_Hermione?_ I thought. _Since when does he call her Hermione?_ Brushing off how much that irrationally irritated me, I said, "Oh yes, I'm fine, Blaise, thanks so much for checking."

"I heard a scream," he continued.

I blanched. "And you didn't think to check on us?! What if someone was attacking us, while you were just out here waiting?"

He threw his hands in the air. "You told me to stay here! You would have yelled at me if I left!"

I opened my mouth to protest, then thought about it, and firmly snapped it shut. "Actually, yeah, you're probably right."

Blaise shook his head. "I can't win with you."

Granger cut off any reply I may have had. "Stop bickering! We're fine; whoever it was wasn't there, but they did leave me a nice little note." Any of the shock or fear I had seen on her earlier was gone, replaced with a simmering rage. She clearly wanted whoever was after her gone. She looked more like the girl I remembered in that moment than she had since I'd been around her the last couple days. She looked strong. And deadly.

"A note? What did it say?" Blaise asked.

Granger was about to respond, but I shook my head. "Not here. We can catch up when we're back at the house. Let's just get out of here."

"Right," Blaise said. "I've had enough of this."

The three of us made it back down to the lobby and out of the hotel without incident. Back in the alley, I side-along apparated everyone, because I insisted on going to an intermediate location, just in case.

When we finally made it back to the house, Blaise quickly levitated Granger's trunk for her. "I'll put this in your room for you," he said, already walking up the stairs.

Granger nodded, eyes trailing after him. "That's a weird thought," she said after a minute.

"What is?"

"That I have a room here."

I smirked. "Guess you never would have thought that'd happen, huh?"

She gave me a smirk of her own. "Like you would have expected to be in this position?"

I let out a small laugh. "Fair enough."

She was quiet again, and her expression grew more serious. "Thank you."

I bristled, turning away from the intensity of her gaze. "I haven't done anything."

She stepped toward me and reached out to place a hand lightly on my bicep. My eyes snapped back to hers. Standing here, looking down at her, I noticed for the first time what a rich, beautiful brown they were. They had a few golden specs in them too, here and there.

"You saved my life, Draco – that's everything."

_Draco_. It was the first time I had heard her say my name, watched the way her lips shaped around it. I wanted her to say it again.

"All set!" Blaise yelled, coming back down the stairs.

I stumbled backward, released from whatever trance I had been in. I hadn't even realized I had been holding my breath.

"Lovely," Granger said.

I looked over to her, but she was looking at Blaise. She was smiling, flashing her no longer buck-teeth.

She wasn't looking at me, but I couldn't help but feel like I was looking at her for the first time.

**XXX**

**Ooh, is somebody catching feelings?! Thank you again everyone for sticking with me here. I'm sorry to say that I can no longer promise completely regular updates. Weekly updates are pretty unlikely, but I am going to do my absolute best to update at least every other week! Also, I'm not sure exactly what day it will be, but weekends are the most likely. Your patience is appreciated in advance :)**

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